


So Many Worlds, And Only Two of Us

by poeticaid



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 'cause historical Jefferson is such an ass, A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe- A Thousand Pieces of You, Alternate Universes, Assemble - Freeform, BUT THEN IT HAS A LOVE TRIANGLE, British Squad, But cool book, But not on purpose, Can't they just talk it out?, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hamilton is secretly a homophobe, Hamilton learns what break ups are, I WROTE THIS WHILE THE INTERNET WAS DOWN, I like making backstories for Thomas, I swear Samuel is the only rational guy here, IS IN THE FIRST CHAPTER, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Past Infidelity, Pedophilia (mentioned), Pretentious References, THE BIGGEST PLOT TWIST OF ALL TIME, They're all so entertaining to write, Travelling through other universes, WHEN I WAS READING THIS COOL FIC ABOUT TRAVELLING THROUGH OTHER UNIVERSES, What Was I Thinking?, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, actually, also kinda - Freeform, but only in one chapter, idk what im doing, jefferson and hamilton get into a fight, like a lot of them, like ew, not really - Freeform, poor Maria and Eliza, so many historical inaccuracies, to be written, will i ever be satisfied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-03 02:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15809790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticaid/pseuds/poeticaid
Summary: Hamilton scowls. "I will loathe working with you.""So will I."When Hamilton wakes up in a new world, he finds a necklace which was rumored to belong to multi-verse jumpers. Turns out Jefferson is one, too.





	1. Alex stop thinking about Heaven's Gate that's stupid, also your boyfriend's here, plus your boss isn't what he seems to be

**Author's Note:**

> Do you know my early version of the draft if made at my cellphone and I'm posting this on my cellphone without even proofreading it? Wow, I have guts. Anyway, my idea for this fanfic was just stupid reincarnation shit, but I abndoned it pretty quickly. But when I was not listening to my teacher and just zoning out, I tend to remember a lot of things I used to do. And I remembered this book called _A Thousand Pieces of You._ And then I decided to revise my fanfic. I wrote this while there's no internet, forgive me if there are any errors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Hamilton died in front of his family, and as he closes his eyes, waiting to be accepted into heaven, he falls down to Earth, to restart his life, to fulfill his destiny as a multi-verse jumper.
> 
> And Jefferson's there too.

* * *

Burr had shot him. Right between the ribs. Maybe what Hamilton had done was... wrong. Maybe he shouldn't have aimed his pistol at the sky. Because of him, Eliza and their remaining children are left alone in a dark, cruel world. But no one would remember Hamilton. The only ones who would remember him, though, would be Angelica, Eliza, and his children. And of course, his killer, Burr. Hamilton can't decide if he should forgive Burr once he's in the afterlife. Should he...? Did Burr feel any regrets shooting him? He didn't know. All he can hear was sound. Soft, ethereal whispers saying his name. The world is fading into black. But he can't help but smile a bit. He gets to see all of his friends who had died before him. Laurens, Washington, his mother, Philip...

Everyone he loved and cared about would be waiting for him.

As he closes his eyes, waiting to ascend into heaven, he drops. Not like he was shot through the heart, no, but like... a familiar drop, as if you have been rejected to heaven. He falls and falls, and he still continues to reach out to the heaven's gate, where all his friends and family are. But as he descends, the gate was further. Then he could no longer see its heavenly, bright, golden gates.

Heaven's Gate was nowhere to be found, and he was still falling into no end.

Until he _somewhat_ hits the ground.

He wakes up with a jolt, feeling all his memories go back to him. He groans; is remembering something like this really gives someone a headache? But why was he still alive? He looks around; he was not familiar with anything in this room. He looks at himself. He didn't have his suit on, and instead has... a coat on, perhaps? He seems to be holding a pen (?) and there was a black box on the table. He groans again, then looks at the windows, confused. Where was he? Where's New York? What are those things around him? He stands up and slowly walks to the window, hearing unfamiliar sounds. Horns, perhaps? But he hasn't heard of a whinney from a horse, or the trotting of it. Everything was full of noise. He breathes in, then out, combing through his strangely slick hair. It seems to be tied in a ponytail. Why...? He opens the curtains of the window that was obscuring him from the view of the city. Then, what he sees was shocking. Big, massive buildings, big mechanical boxes with wheels all over the street, and people with briefcases and uniforms. What is this place?

Slightly panicking, Hamilton goes back to his desk and picks up the strange rectangular device on his desk. There was a button on the right, so, curiously, he pushes it and the strange device opens. He sees some kind of instruction at the bottom: _Swipe to unlock the screen._ Confused, he does what he was told, and he sees the "screen" change to a portrait (that doesn't look like a painted portrait to Hamilton...), he looks at the group of people on the screen. They don't look like his friends, his comrades who he fought in the war. Well, this must be the future he doesn't yearn. He looks at the date.

_Oh._

It was 2018. He's been gone for that long, huh? Did anyone remember him, though? He looks back at the photo. They look so happy. Where was he? His device starts to make noises, and, confused, Hamilton reopened it. He sees something called _Alarm: Coffee Shop Today._ Still not getting it, he heeds the alarm's instructions.

Hamilton goes to shower. After a few minutes, he takes a towel from a rack to fully dry himself. This technology is quite fascinating. He looks at himself in the mirror. He has mixed feelings with how he looks, but he shrugs it off and walks back to his room. He opens the wardrobe, and there were clothes in hangers, lying on the wooden floor... he sighs a bit. His future incarnation is very disorganized. He makes a note to himself to clean his room. He chooses some of the cluster of clothes which are considered to be classy, and wears them, walking back to the bathroom and looking at himself in a mirror. He silently thinks to himself that he should tie his hair to a ponytail. He grabs one of the hairband in the bathroom and ties his hair with it. He looks at himself in the mirror. This is alright, right? A new life, a new man. Maybe. He walks out of the bathroom with long strides.

He opens the door to the outside world and steps out. He locks the door and runs. There were people milling about, talking to the same rectangular phones as them. Why, though? They were just little glowing screens. A man barks in laughter, making him flinch a little. Hamilton sighs as he makes his way throught the crowd, only to be stopped by something in one of the corners of the city. There was something shining in a narrow alleyway, and no one has ever noticed it. Except for Hamilton. Curious, he walks over to the alleyway to see nothing but a necklace, its light radiating the dark alley. It smells unpleasant in the narrow alley, and the red bricks were covered in some kinds of dirt, but Hamilton walks over to the necklace. There was something etched on it, and he picks it up.

"Fire...bird?", he reads. The name was familiar, very familiar, but he never thought he would see it in a place like this. He sighs, but takes the necklace anyway and wears it around his neck.

There was a myth circling in America a few years ago. Well, a few centuries ago. That there were men wearing necklaces similar to the necklace he was wearing right now. These men were said to have taken control of the bodies of their victims in their sleep, or maybe even standing, and pretend that they were this person. Thomas Jefferson- that self- centered prick- had even suspected that the necklace was some kind of... multiverse jumper. He shakes his head. His memories are not really all that placed inside his head, but he had also heard that it took Jefferson's wife as well.

"Oh, Alexander!", a girl waves at him fron afar. He feels some sort of familiarity to her. She had a soft voice, a bright smile, and shining eyes. Could she be...?

"Eliza", he breathes as he makes his way to her. She was standing near a building filled with people. He hugs her. She looks so different, but she sounds the same. She's still Eliza. _His_ Eliza. Eliza breaks off the hug with a smile, planting a kiss on Hamilton's cheek. She chuckles.

"It's good to see you too, Alexander", she says. "Come inside, the others are already there to discuss our project."

 _A project?_ he thinks to himself. Eliza looks down on the necklace hanging down his neck.

"That's a really pretty necklace", she says. "Where did you get it?"

"From one of the alleyway", he replies truthfully. Eliza laughs, as if she was not taking him seriously.

"Alright, now come inside, the others are waiting for you. Thomas is already making a twenty-minute document on how he hates you."

"Of course, my dearest."

Eliza looks at him with a raised brow. "Um... I thought we would stop with the petnames?"

Hamilton looks at her. She had just been affectionate over a minute ago. What was wrong? He nods, silently following her inside the building. The man breathlessly looked around the surroundings. There were people serving others with a paper cup at the counters, and the buyers taking out paper money to pay for the said paper cups. Why is the currency so expensive nowadays? Unless their economy is growing, then sure. He follows Eliza to a table near the window. Two tables, actually. There were people seated across the windows, either looking at the screen of their phones, or typing something in what looks like a larger phone but more rectangular and heavier. Everyone basically had one cup near them while doing their work, except for the three on the furthest back, who were laughing and talking to themselves. But what catches his eyes was the man near to him. He was wearing a ridiculous shade of purple, and was ranting about him. Hamilton. He doesn't even know who he is! Hamilton just feels as if he hates the person sitting near him already. Then something catches his eye. A necklace, with the same symbol and name etched on the center. This man must be a multiverse jumper as well.

Eliza clearing her throat snaps everyone, even Hamilton, out of their frenzy. Everyone suddenly goes silent as they look at her with inquisitive eyes. Hamilton unconciously raises a brow. _Only Angelica_ was able to silence men like that. And well, the women as well.

"Alexander's here", she says in a sweet voice. Then everyone, except three people seated on either of their side, smiles and greets Hamilton in a cheerful way.

"Alex, mon ami!", a boy with dark skin and thick dreadlocks tied to a ponytail calls him. His accent was thick, almost as if he was...

"Lafayette, not that loud!", the other says with a groan as he almost lets his cup fall to the rectangular box sitting on the table.

The third one tuts. "It's called a _laptop,_ Hercules. Put it on your lap."

Hercules- really? That's Hercules Mulligan?- just gave him the middle finger, and the other gives him a subtle wink.

"Suck a dick, John Laurens."

"I'd gladly suck your dick _everyday._ "

Hercules spluters. "Oh my god not here!"

Lafayette and the others laugh. Lafayette pats the seat beside him, so Hamilton takes a seat beside the taller man. These people _do not_ look like his former friends, and it makes him queasy, to see how many people there are at the table. Another girl stands up and claps her hands. He looks up. The next girl had some sort of fire in her eyes. Her stance was strong, fiery, and a little sassy. He smiles to himself. This must be Angelica Shuyler. She smirks and glances at Alexander. Affirmative. That is Eliza's older sister.

"Okay, since everyone's here", Angelica begins. "Let me here the suggestions of our presentation and our project. This is a documentary, so we should really circle the city if we want accurate interviews."

The man who was glaring at Hamilton clears his throat. Angelica shrugs. "Sure, go ahead, Thomas."

Hamilton's hands grip the table. _That's_ Thomas Jefferson? The man rumored to have illigitimate children with a servant decades younger than him? The man whom he assumes as a hypocrite? The man who has owned many slaves and did not give them any sort of pay in their servitude in Monticello? The man who wears overly ridiculous suits with atrocious colors? The man who had kept a ram as a pet and named it "This abominable animal?" He awkwardly shifts in his seat as he sees the necklace hanging on Jefferson's neck again. Jefferson stands and, throwing a glare at Hamilton, who glared back at him in return, walks to the spot Angelica used to occupy.

"What about, everyone's opinions on politics today?", he asks. They all nod, even Hamilton. He was also quite curious on what people think about politics today and how it has changed. Jefferson looks at Hamilton with a mixed look of surprise and amusement.

"Even Hamilton agrees", he huffs. Hamilton inwardly rolls his eyes; still such a narcissist like the last time he has seen him. He probably owns slaves in this world as well.

Laurens looks at Hamilton with fake surprise. "Alexander _agreeing_ with Jefferson? That's something you don't see everyday."

Hamilton smiles a bit.

Then they start talking about their plans on interviewing a majority of New York citizens. Hamilton tunes them out and tells everyone he was going to the bathroom. As he stands, he starts looking for a bathroom with his eyes. He spots a signage that reads _Bathroom,_ and walks towards it. As he opens the room, he breathes. It was not like any bathroom he has ever seen, and was a little more _sanitary_ compared to what they used in the 1700's. He had only been gone for two hundred years, and the future has so much he needs to see. He did not even needed to use the bathroom, he was just in awe- and in pain- of the new world.

"Enjoying yourself, Hamilton?", a voice asks. He turns around to see Jefferson-this Jefferson, not the one from the past- looking at him with a raised brow. He had an amused look on his face. He closes the door and makes his way towards Hamilton, who glares back at him.

"You look really different", Hamilton replies. He was right, of course. This Jefferson had dark skin and hair. His hair was really curly, and he had a beard to top it all off.

Jefferson scoffs. "Yeah. Welcome to the 21st century."

"This is the twenty-first century?"

"Yes." Jefferson clutches the chain around his neck, then looks at Hamilton's necklace as well. "Seems we have one."

Hamilton's eyes widen. "You remember who you were before?"

Jefferson nods. "Yes, but that was me in another universe."

Hamilton's eyebrows rise up. "So, what you are saying, is that... there _are_ multi-verses?"

Jefferson shrugs. "I guess. I have been in this world for two years. Decided to stay for a while."

"You don't really sound that formal anymore", Hamilton replies.

Jefferson rolls his eyes. "It's called 'being modern', Hamilton. Oh, and by the way, in the modern world, someone invented something called 'breakups.'"

"Breakups?", Hamilton repeats. "Is it... comparable to a divorce?"

Jefferson nods. "You can say that, but... there's no marriage between them. Just... affection and love."

Hamilton tries to understand. He and Eliza had courted each other for over a span of months, and decided to get married and have children. Hamilton not understanding what break-ups are is an understatement.

Jefferson notices that Hamilton has trouble keeping up, so he sighs and crosses his arms.

"You and Eliza broke up a few months ago", he deadpans. That makes Hamilton snap out of his thoughts and look at Jefferson with wide eyes.

"So... does this mean that she does not love me anymore?", Hamilton asks.

"No, she still loves you, she just thought that you and her relationship would never work out, especially after you cheated on her with Maria Reynolds." Hamilton looks up at Jefferson. He still cheated on Eliza with Maria? Why has this world been so cruel to him? Now he is sort of divorced with Eliza in this world, and considers him as a friend and not a significant other anymore?

"I see", Hamilton says quietly. Jefferson sighs.

"Get used to it, Hamilton."

Hamilton's eyebrows furrow in irritation. "I have forgotten how infuriating you _were_."

"'I have forgotten?"', Jefferson muses in amusement. "I'll let you know that you sound like a hermit in the 60's."

"That's not even-you know what? Nevermind." Hamilton purses his lips. He didn't have any sorts of argument, and he didn't want to argue with Jefferson now. Maybe later.

"I died when I was eighty-three", Jefferson speaks up. Hamilton looks at him with disinterested eyes.

"I died seventeen hours after Burr shot me", he replies.

"Don't strangle Burr in this universe!", Jefferson shoots back, and he closes the bathroom door. Hamilton lets out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding. He was partially grateful that he can't seem to recognize Aaron Burr around his colleague's counterparts. He sits down opposite of Eliza, and he starts to listen about others' plans.

* * *

Alexander says goodbye to everyone, as he makes his way back to his building. At least he had recognized where his 'apartment building' was. He pulls put his phone and swipes the screen to unlock it. It was still quite early in the morning, and he had eaten breakfast in the coffee shop-courtesy of Eliza, bless her heart- and his stomach was full already. Still getting used to holding this rectangular shaped device, he sees another alleyway shining. He sighs, and runs over to it. He sees Jefferson talking to someone on his necklace. Hamilton looks down, and he sees his necklace glowing. He walks and looks at Jefferson. He was muttering, and Alexander raises a brow.

"Jefferson?", Alexander asks. Jefferson looks back at him, a hint of surprise on his face.

"Oh, Hamilton, just in time", Jefferson replies. Then, he turns his attention back to his neckwear. "Hamilton's here, sir."

Alexander just stands there, questions feeling his mind as he stares at Jefferson in confusion. Then out of the blue, an orange like circular shape appears on an etched wall. He steps back, shocked, while Jefferson takes the lead, and looks at Alexander with a knowing glance. Alexander nods, and steps forward. He unconciously intwines his and Jefferson's hand. If Jefferson notices, he did not object.

"You ready?", Jefferson asks as he takes a step near the orange disk. Alexander nods, speechless that he may encounter and confront the myths surrounding multi-verses. Alexander takes a deep breath, and steps inside, disappearing into nothingness.

He closes his eyes as he sees swirling visions around him. He hears the man next to him say something, but he can't hear him over the noises. He sees nothing but orange, even under his eyelids. He feels as if he was floating in an eternal plane, where no one was bothering him, and the afterlife was one of the most peaceful placea in his life. He imagines Heaven's Gate in front of him, the angels and saints looking down upon him. Then all of it vanishes in a blink of an eye, as someone taps his shoulder. He grunts, then sees Jefferson as he opens his eyes. He looks around, not to see the sunny skies of New York, but a dark cloud hovering over the city. This New York was the same New York as the one before, yet buildings seem more... futuristic, comparable to the New York he'd seen. This must be another universe.

"Where are we?", Alexander asks.

"New York", Jefferson replies in a monotonous voice.

"No, _where_ are we?", Hamilton repeats.

"An alternate New York", Jefferson replies. "Still in the same year, but more advanced and... depressing." He looks at the surroundings.

Indeed, this New York was depressing. There were still people milling about, going to their work, but they were all carrying melancholic expressions and wearing monochrome clothes. Even their cars were black and white.

"Looks like the twenty-first century, if you're asking me", Jefferson mutters.

"What happened in this universe?", Alexander asks, feeling sad himself.

Jefferson looks upwards, and the other follows his gaze. There was a tall building, which was blocking everyone from light. It was taller than other buildings. He then notices they were above the ground. He mistakenly looks down and finds that they were high up. How is that building over there _so tall?_ He can't even see the ground from where he's standing.

"What are we even standing on?", Alexander asks.

"A building", Jefferson says. "Not really one, but we're a billion feet off the squatter regions. This is where the middle class stays."

"Higher-ups?"

"A little higher, but not as high as that building over there. Anyway, come on, Washington is waiting for us. Let's go."

He then points Alexander to an open room with metal walls. Alexander looks reluctant.

"What is this?"

Jefferson grimaces. "An elevator."

"What does it do?"

"It takes us up or down, wherever we want."

"How?"

"Big, strong, metal cables pull us up, or push us down."

Alexander, still reluctant, then sees Jefferson shooting him an impatient look. Sighing, he goes in the elevator, and Jefferson pushes one of the buttons. The door closes, and Alexander feels the elevator move. He sucks in a breath. Jefferson must've noticed, so he holds Alexander's hand. Alexander looks up at the taller man, and lets himself relax a bit. The elevator stops, and it opens, revealing a dozen of people waiting in front of them. Jefferson and Alexander step out of the elevator, and the others fill in the tiny room. The doors close automatically, and Jefferson starts to walk towards another metal cable. Alexander inwardly sighs as they make their way to another elevator like lift. They sit there in silence. Alexander looks down, then winces when he sees that they were so high up. He looks back at Jefferson, who was oddly silent.

"What happened to this world?", Alexander asks again.

"Well, I don't really know much", Jefferson begins. "But it basically goes like this. This world's Jefferson invented something called the "Firebird", which is the neckwear we're both wearing now"-he looks down at the necklace he's wearing, and so does Alexander-"which is a multi-verse jumper, as we recalled. It takes someone else's body. Right now, we're in their bodies."

Jefferson was right. It took Alexander a long time to realize he wasn't wearing his clothes from the other universe, and so was Jefferson. He was now wearing a magenta suit- an incredulous color, really- and he was holding some kind of board on his hands. Alexander had a green suit on, and his hair was still tied back to a ponytail. The lift stops.

"Well, let's go meet Washington", Jefferson says.

* * *

The building's inside was quite graceful and grand, but a little modest. It had smooth black tiles, and white walls. There were dim lights above them, and tables lining up on the walls. Alexander takes in a breath. He folliws Jefferson into an office, where they knock on the door. The door was mahogany, yet painted black.

"Come in", a low drawl replies. Jefferson cautiously opens the door and comes in. Alexander follows suit.

The room was much more lively than the outside. There were bright lights shining over the office, with floral tiles beneath them. There was a window behind the desk, and there was a flower vase on the window pane. Surprisingly, it was still in full bloom. A man was standing behind the desk, sitting in an overly modest chair that doesn't suit anything in the office nor in the building. And does _not look_ like Washington. The man smiles a bit, making the whole room light up metaphorically.

"Jefferson, nice to see you again", Washington replies.

"Firebird Jefferson, Modern Jefferson, or Eighteenth Century Jefferson?", Jefferson asks.

"You used to be Eighteenth Century Jefferson until you died, right?", Washington asks, standing from his seat. "Then, all of a sudden, you woke up in another person's body. That's what you felt, right, Mr. Hamilton?"

He was now staring at Alexander. Alexander nods. He touches the place where Burr had shot him, still feeling the wound on his chest. He feels his legs tremble a bit.

"Yeah, maybe I'm _both_ Eighteenth Century and Modern Jefferson", Jefferson replies. "Hamilton must be too."

Washington nods. "Alright, I have reasons to why I have brought you here."

"Tell me why I woke up in a bed with memories of who I was", Alexander demands, taking a step forward.

Washington sighs. "Well, it was Firebirdverse Alexander's fault."

"'Firebirdverse Alexander?'", Alexander repeats.

"This world's Alexander", Washington explains. "He must've accidentally got you shot yourself."

Alexander looks down at the tiles. "So, the reason I died, was because of this world's Alexander?"

"Sort of", Washington replies. "Basically, Alexander and a couple of his friends were getring drunk, when Alexander accidentally winds up in the eighteenth century. Being the drunkard he was at the time, he accidentally shoots a tree behind Burr rather than him. As an apology, he gave you his Firebird and also gave you the memories he sustained in his duel with Burr."

Alexander stays quiet, glaring at the ceilings above him. It was someone else's fault he died. That he had vanished from the face of the Earth, and never to see his children and Eliza ever again. And it was _his_ fault as well for agreeing to a duel just because he had a bad day.

"I see", Alexander finally says, standing up. "Is that the only thing we came here to discuss?"

Washington shakes his head. "No. Last week was a draining week for all of us. George King, a rival of our company, had decided to take most of the artifacts needed to keep the multi-verses in balance."

Jefferson perks up. "You didn't tell me anything last week."

The man behind the desks sighs apologetically. "I am sorry, I was waiting for you to show up with Mr. Hamilton."

"Why?"

"Because"- Washington stands-"we need you two to search for all the artifacts in the known universes."

Jefferson tilts his head. "Why don't you ask this world's Jefferson and Alexander?"

"I wish", Washington looks back at the cold, dark sky. "But Thomas is going to a meeting with George King, and Alexander is being arrested by yours truly."

"Why is my counterpart getting arrested?", Alexander asks.

"Well, he had violated one of our rules", Washington says. "One of our rules was to not let their alternate universe counterpart get hurt."

Alexander nods. "I see. But why specifically pick us, exactly?"

"Because...", Washington trails off. Alexander waits for a response, but Jefferson takes Alexander's hand into his own.

"Well, where's the first artifact we need, Mr. Washington?", Jefferson asks.

"In the universe you were currently staying in", Washington replies. "Now go. Time's a wasting. George King wants a war."

And with that, the orange sphere appears again. Alexander takes a deep breath, and steps inside, letting himself relax under the immense pressure. He dreamt no longer of Heaven's Gate.

* * *

Alex opens his eyes on a jolt. George Washington was looking out the windows while Thomas was on his phone. Alex clears his throat. They look at him. Alex smiles.

"I presume you lead them to our trap?", he asks.

Washington chuckles. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You know, they're all naïve", Thomas pipes up. He touches Alex's knee, and the other reciprocated. "Everyone always thinks that King George is _always_ the villain in their stories."

"Well, he was always regarded as the villain in the American Revolution", Washington replies. "Also, stop doing that. You have homes where you can do that."

Thomas sighs and drops his hand.

"I wonder when they'll learn this is all a ruse", Alex says. "That this universe's King George is clean, we're not, King George hid those artifacts from us so he can prevent us from destroying the universe, etcetera."

"Maybe a long time, not sure." Thomas shrugs, then goes back to his phone.

"And when they figure it out, it will be _too late._ " Alex agrees, bridging the distance between his and Thomas' lips. Washington grimaces. After a few seconds of passionate kissing, Alex breaks apart.

"Gentlemen", Washington says. He sneers. "You know, I may even act like their King George. It's like... opposite day but... permanently, I guess."

"Of course you'd compare yourself to their King George", Alex deadpans. "At least I wasn't shot at by a fool."

"Nor am I rumored to have had an affair with Sally Hemmings", Thomas replies with a huff. "Some alternate mes are twats."

"Does that include you?", Alex says.

Thomas smiles. "No. I'm smarter than them."

Alex rolls his eyes. "Sure you are."

In another building, George King taps the keyboard. He grimaces as he sees Washington with Jefferson and Hamilton. With Firebirds on their necks, which was... off, to say the least. They're both expert multi-verse jumpers, that they didn't need to wear those heavy neckwear on their necks. Unless... they're _not_ the Jefferson and Hamilton of this universe. His eyes widen.

"Shit", he mutters. He narrows his eyes. The cameras were only designed to have visuals, not audio. But, he knows what Washington is trying to tell them. He turns his head to his secretary. "Seabury!"

The other man, Seabury, looks at him expectantly.

"I need you to follow the men Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton!", King demands. "I _need_ you to bring back to me. Alive."

Seabury tilts his head. "But sire, they are unstoppable-"

"For God's sake, not those retched human beings!", King shouts back, making Seabury wince. "The ones with Firebirds on their necks! Track them in every single universe to find them! To tell them that it's a trap! That Washington is manipulating them to get those artifacts to destroy all universes!"

Seabury nods. "Of course, sir", he hurries out of King's office.

King looks back at the camera monitors. He will make them beg for death once he gets his hands on them.

* * *

Hamilton opens his eyes, to find themselves in the alleyway again. He then looks down and sees that he was holding Jefferson's hand. All of a sudden, he immediately retracts his hand away. Jefferson was looking at him with unamused eyes. They were back in the Modernverse, as Jefferson had called it. Hamilton misses the sun shine, and the brightly colored people on the sidewalk. He also missed being on the ground. Hamilton looks at Jefferson, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible.

"Let's get those artifacts, I guess", Jefferson says.

"Uh, yes", Hamilton says rather eloquently, then nods.

Jefferson scoffs. "Quite an eloquent remark, Hamilton."

Hamilton scowls. "I will loathe working with you."

"So will I."


	2. And so begins Alexander's and Thomas' journey to destory the multi-verse but not quite really because this is a filler chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost all of my chapters are filler, anyway.  
> Anyway, writing on my phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck.

"So, what do these artifacts look like?", Hamilton asks as he straps into Thomas' car. He was invited to stay in Thomas' mansion for the night, and, reluctantly, he said yes.

Jefferson shrugs. "I dunno."

Hamilton looks at him. "What? That's... how will we find the assigned artifacts?!"

"I don't know, Hamilton", Jefferson replies as he starts the car. Hamilton winces as the car roars, but he can't make a fool out of himself in front of his rival.

Hamilton groans loudly. Jefferson smiles a bit. The car drive was silent. Hamilton keeps glancing at Jefferson, and, he has to confess, that Jefferson was quite... attractive. He must've made girls swoon with those looks. Hamilton just frowns and keeps his eyes focused on the road. There were cars passing by them, cars in front of them, and cars behind them. There were bars keeping them in line.

"You know, I've heard rumors", Hamilton says, trying to start a conversation.

"What is it, Hamilton", Jefferson groans. "I'm not really in the mood to debate with you, because I'm driving and trying to focus on the road."

"About your relationship with Sally Hemmings", Hamiltons ignores his remarks, then sees Jefferson's grip tighten around the steering wheel.

" _Don't, Hamilton_ ", Jefferson growls.

"Is it true? That you had the _audacity_ to sleep with a woman _thirty years younger than you?!_ "

Jefferson was silent as he glares at the road, as if it was Hamilton himself.

"She could've been, like, I don't know, your daughter, your daughter's best friend or something like that! Did you father _one of Hemmings' children?"_

Jefferson just stares at the road, dodging the overtaking cars in their direction. Yet Hamilton continues on and on.

"You slave owning prick! Did you father... _all of her children?!_ "

Jefferson then glares at Hamilton.

"Shut up, Hamilton", Jefferson says. "I _really_ want to have a nice weekend so bad, then you have to ruin it."

Hamilton scoffs. "You were the wise individual who invited me to their mansion. What? Do you have unpaid slaves there?"

"No. I live alone.

Hamilton perks up. "Alone?"

"Yes, Hamilton", Jefferson slows the vehicle down as they near. Hamilton sees greener pastures. "Plus, I don't think it's actually safe to harbor slaves into America anymore. Yeah, I still hear about labor, but they were in other countries, and I don't think people here would just own slaves. They'd like, get arrested or some shit People get arrested when the government finds out you're harboring unpaid slaves." He stops the car and turns it off with a flick of his key. He opens the door and motions for Hamilton to come out as well. Hamilton opens the car door and takes a deep breath.

He's about to step in Jefferson's territory. _Jefferson's_ territory. He looks around, then sees an overly big mansion between the car and him. He follows Jefferson, who takes his keys out and opens the door. Hamilton takes a breath and walks along with him. The mansion was big, but the inside of the mansion was modest, which was uncharacteristic of Jefferson. The walls were painted an atrocious magenta, and the tiles were a colorful purple. Hamilton grimaces as he remembers he's going to stay in this mansion for a while. Jefferson disappears into the hallway, leaving Hamilton in the living room. He sits down on one of the soft cushions, and stares at basically what the modern world has in stall for them.

He still hates the man standing behind him.

* * *

Jefferson remembered how he got here. He was dying, in his death bed in Monticello, surrounded by his family. He was dying, and maybe that was alright. It was way better than living in a world where you try and thrive as somebody else. When he woke up the second time, he was quite surprised to find himself in a new place, in a younger body with some kind of necklace hanging on it. He was also surprised to find Madison in his mansion, his appearance different, but still the same. He was surprised with how he looked like as well. Maybe that was why he's helping Hamilton cope with the new world. A new world order is set upon him. He finishes cooking the mac and cheese and sets it on the table.

"Hamilton, lunch is ready", he calls. Hamilton trudges into the dining hall, looking at the dish in disgust.

"Mac and cheese?", Hamilton looks at Jefferson with an unamused look. Jefferson smiles. "Really?"

"Yep", Jefferson replies. "I put bourbon on it."

"I can believe that", Hamilton sighs. "You're destroying everyone's taste buds."

They eat lunch in silence. Jefferson looks at Hamilton and raises a brow.

"I woke up in this body two years ago", Jefferson starts. "Was really surprised to find myself in a new world. And also pretty surprised when I find out I was young again."

"Well, yes, that's what I thought as well", Hamilton replies, staring awkwardly on the bowl of mac and cheese. "Especially when I saw you in that coffee shop."

"Isn't it weird?"

Hamilton looks up. "What is?"

"That there are millions of universes, and our universe is just the starting point of it all?"

Hamilton nods. "Yes, I guess so."

They eat lunch in a much comfortable silence. After lunch, Jefferson gathers their plates and puts in on the sink to start washing them. The water runs from the faucet and into the plates while he washes them with soap. He dries them and puts the plates and utensils back to their respectful places. He finds Hamilton sitting on one of his couches, holding a book on his hands. Jefferson sits across from him, staring at his _former_ rival. Should he even call themselves rivals after they've gotten an assignment together?

"What're you reading?", Jefferson asks, making the other man jump. Jefferson has to bite his tongue to prevent laughter.

"You have books under the small table", Hamilton mutters. "All about... history."

Jefferson nods. "Of course. I don't want to miss out on what the world is now up to today. You're free to read anything so you can familiarize yourself with the new world."

Hamilton looks at Jefferson with a blank face. "Thank you. I'm going to regret saying this, am I?"

Jefferson chuckles. "Maybe."

Hamilton closes his book, and looks at Jefferson again. He was caught off-guard when he first saw him. He wasn't _white,_ Angelica wasn't white, the others weren't as well, which is very strange, as most slaves in their century were, well, black. Or, specifically, African.

"Jefferson?", Hamilton asks. Jefferson perks up from his phone. "Is your counterpart here... African?"

Jefferson raises a brow but then smiles. "Well, not really. I assume my race is African-American, from sources I found on the net."

"African-American?"

"Well, like, black Americans."

"Did this race face prejudice?"

"A lot, actually. Racism is a bit mild in this century, but still a bit present, I guess."

* * *

Seabury opens his eyes to see his new surroundings. He was in a church, surrounded by other pastors and priests as they eat and pray to God. Modernnverse Seabury is still religious. Seabury sits up and tells the pastors that he needed a bathroom break. They all oblige, and tell him he should be back by noon. But Seabury wasn't listening. He had a job to do. He removes his robe and escapes through the bathroom window. He lands on grass, and starts to inspect his surroundings. He had been to this universe once, three years ago, to go sight-seeing with King and the others. Now he's on a dangerous mission to get those two back to where they belong. It was probably for the best. King had told him to hide all those artifacts. It took almost _five weeks_ to hide all artifacts from Washington and his army. Why would they use them to destroy all dimensions, including theirs? He was there at their first fight, then at the second fight, but never on the third.

It was rumored to be a surprise attack, from what he was told. King couldn't bring himself to tell Seabury, so he was forced to believe the rumors. The air in this world was nice, and the sun glows on each sector of his skin. He missed this kind of warmth. He missed the sun reflecting over New York, giving everyone a happy feeling as they went on to their jobs, or to school. He missed the way everything was colorful, how everyone was still on the ground and not on buildings as tall as Washington's. His building had polluted their city, five years ago after their Jefferson created that wretched Firebird. After their Washington parted off from being allies with King and to make money from the Firebirds. And after they made that unessecarily tall building to block out the sun. The reasons wby the government elevated everyone from the ground, so they can find the sun's warmth again, but it was gone from New York. Gone forever. Seabury blinks as he steadies himself, only to be interrupted by someone tapping his shoulder. He looks over, and a chill runs down his spine.

"Excuse me, mister, are you alright?", Eliza Shuyler asks, concern lacing on her voice. Seabury calms himself.

"I'm fine, Ma'am", Seabury smiles. This is _not_ Firebirdverse Eliza. "I was just... looking for someone. Can you help me?"

Eliza nods. "Of course! Who are you looking for?"

"Alexander Hamilton", Seabury replies.

Eliza's eyes widen. "Oh, last time I saw him he was getting on Thomas' car, which is a little strange, since they both hate each other, but I'm quite glad they're finally getting along."

Seabury nods. "Thank you, Miss Schuyler."

Eliza smiles. "You're welcome, Mister...?"

"Seabury", he breathes. "Samuel Seabury."

* * *

"What is 'Vietnam?'", Hamilton asks in a careful voice as he pronounces the foreign word.

"It's a country", Jefferson replies, opening his laptop.

"Why did we get involved in their war?", Hamilton asks.

"Lots of crazy things happened while we were away", Jefferson replies, not once looking up at his laptop.

Hamilton reads the book, then stops at something. He turns to Jefferson. "What are the World Wars?"

"Basically some weird-ass conflict in the twentieth century."

"What happened?"

Jefferson sighs. He can never stop Hamilton's inquisitive mind from overflowing. "The first world war was initiated after the assassination of this guy, Archduke Ferdinand... did I get his name right? The world war killed a million men."

"Then... if the asshole hadn't killed that Archduke guy... the war would've been prevented?"

"Eh, I don't think so. Even if he wasn't killed, the war can be initiated in other ways. His death is just a start of a little something called _Butterfly Effect._ "

"Why did world war two start?"

"Okay, from what I recall, I think Germany disobeyed the Treaty of Versailles...? Forgive me if I'm wrong, haven't touched the subject for a year."

They sit in silence, Hamilton reading his book and Jefferson typing on his laptop.

"Your tapping is quite irritating", Hamilton says. Jefferson looks at him.

"It's a natural sound, Hamilton", Jefferson says. "And I'm basically making my damn report that's due tomorrow. Yours is, too."

Hamilton perks up. "Wait, what was my report about?!"

Jefferson shrugs. "You choose your topic."

"How am I supposed to make my report a day before due date?"

Jefferson sighs and stands, motioning for the other to come with him. Curiously, Hamilton agrees, and follows Jefferson to the winding hallways, until they stop in front of a door. Jefferson opens it, and Hamilton breathes. It was a library, a really small one. There were only a dozen shelves and some books. It must be quite small, but Hamilton walks over and takes one book over the shelves. It was about politics, which made him already smitten with the book. Jefferson smiles.

"Well, I'll leave you to it", Jefferson says, leaving Hamilton to his devices.

Hamilton uncharacteristically squeals excitedly, his eyes shining bright as he gathers as many books as he can on politics as possible. He takes all of them to the lone table at the center of the bookshelves. He opens one book and starts to read.

"Hey, Hamilton", Jefferson appears right in front of the door with a pen and paper. "Reports need written works, so have a pen and paper. Oh, and pens are just basically like quills, if you're asking me."

Hamilton mumbles a thank you as he takes the sheets of paper and pen.

* * *

_Jefferson opened his eyes, the sheer pain in his body shockingly gone. He groans as he stood up straight. Nothing hurts. Strange. Why was he in an unknown room, when he had just died in his deathbed in front of his daughters? Then under his pillow, some kind of noise echoed throughout the room. Alarmed, Jefferson looked through his bed, to find some strange rectangular device beneath the pillows. He tilted his head. What was this doing here? Where is he, really? He took the device and opened the door, only to find winding empty hallways. It reminded him of Monticello for a bit. But this is not the Monticello he knew and remembered. It looked so... empty, without the servants or his family all over the place. It was dark, not in the way he remembered such a place. He tried to find some sort of candle on the table, yet all he found was a switch on one of the walls. Curiously, he flicked it open, resulting lights from out of nowhere to brighten the halls. He jumped back in surprise, and he continued his walk to the unknown._

Now Thomas knew this hallways; they weren't as winding nor long as Monticello- to be truthful, the memories regarding how big Monticello was was fading- he wasn't as confused as he was two years ago. He goes to the bathroom to take a relaxing shower. Thomas looks at his reflection on the mirror. He recalls how surprised he was when he found out not only was he younger, but a different race as well. He remembered how he panicked, seeing everything outside of his abode, that everything changed all the while, but now he was used to change. It's the circle of life. He fills the bathtub with water, waiting for it to fill up. He turns the faucet after the bathtub was full of water, and undresses himself. He lets his pinky toe touch the water, and then, feeling if it's cool enough, he slips in the bathtub, letting himself relax.

He wonders, if he hadn't found that Firebird, would his life still be the same? Would he have been welcomed to Heaven's Gate?

He hears a string of curses in the library. He lets out a sigh. Sometimes Hamilton can be a _nuisance._ He walks up the stairs and into the library, where he opens it with such force.

"Hamilton, why are you-", he stifles laughter as he sees Hamilton buried in a pile of books, a muffled string of curses telling him that it is Hamilton. He smiles, but-hesitantly- decides to help Hamilton up from the books.

"Your bookshelf was really faulty", Hamilton explains. "I was taking a book from one of these shelves then the shelf collapsed and buried me in a pile of books."

"I should really get that fixed", Thomas mumbles as he starts to fix the books and put them on the table.

"You were enjoying it", Hamilton deadpans as he takes one of the books in the pile and puts it on the side of his table. Thomas blinks, then rolls his eyes.

" _Three pages,_ Hamilton?", he asks. Hamilton looks over his papers, then nods proudly.

"Yep, that's me", he replies. "I can pass this report tomorrow."

"Hope you understand modern government", Thomas prances out of the library.

* * *

Thomas fixes his bow tie as Alexander watches. He scowls at himself as he looks over the mirror.

"I can't believe Washington is making me have a meeting with King", he says.

Alexander rolls his eyes. "Babe, you always have meetings with King."

"Well, that's because I'm _forced_ to."

Alexander stand from his place, and gives Thomas a peck on the cheek. Thomas smiles and gives his dear Alexander a goodbye. He doesn't need a car. All he needs is a private skyline to King's building and that's it. He hears a lift's door opens and climbs onto it. He looks down, seeing nothing but low-tier buildings below. There was a time when he was actually _afraid_ at going up high, but now it's a frequent occurence in the new New York. Buildings as tall as mountains, cities on the ground in disarray, the sun being blocked by said buildings, anything. All because he made the greatest invention in human history.

And he uses its powers to make his counterparts' lives worse. When did he start doing this?

The lift stops, and he steps out, only to be greeted by the sight of his ex-fiancè with a scowl on her face.

"Martha", he says civilly.

She scowls. "It's Wayles-Skelton to _you._ "

Thomas didn't respond, and lets himself follow Martha to the hallways of King's building. He looks at Martha's hands, searching for something that isn't there. It was _never_ there in the first place. Thomas was going to propose to her after their first date in another universe, but something went wrong. Now she's mentally scarred for life. It was his fault that their relationship ended, after all. He fidgets with his collar. Not like he _cared,_ no.

He was now standing in front of a door, with a plaque carved with "King" on it. He opens the door, and was not surprised to find the room shrouded in darkness. Thomas hears the tapping of mahogany. Thomas looks at the shadow of George King, eyes piercing in the darkness. He was wearing an expression of anger and melancholy. As always.

"Sit, Mr. Jefferson", King says. Thomas sits down, miraculously feeling a comfortable cushion beneath him. "I have been notified that you... sent your counterparts from another universe to... deal with what you had lost."

Thomas nods. No reason to lie to King. He knows what the truth was and not. "Affirmative, Mr. King."

King grunts, and his eyes narrow. It was quite impressive, even after seeing King for countless of times in the past, that his eyes could glow in the dark.

"Why send naïve counterparts of you to put them in a dangerous situation?"

Thomas shrugs. "Well, you _did_ prohibit our rights to go to other universes after our last war with each other. You shouldn't even be _touching_ our Firebirds. That is my creation, if you recall."

"Of _course_ I recall", King says, poison lacing on his voice. "You worked for me. You created the first prototype in my company, and the first batch in my company."

"You repeated 'My company' two times", Thomas stifles a yawn. "Such formality, Mr. King."

He senses King's fists clench and unclench.

"I still don't know why you would switch sides and join Washington, of all people in this dimension", King says.

"I also don't know", Thomas shrugs. "I woke up in one of his employee's bed, and boom, I'm in Washington's company."

"Ah, of course, Alexander Hamilton", King says. "Of course."

"Ya know, I was expecting you to tell me that you've already sent someone to stop them before those two collect everything?"

"Oh, no, I did not send anyone", King replies, smiling. His white teeth light up the cool, dark room. "Yet."

Thomas smirks. "It would be too late to send anyone by this time, Mr. King. Washington activated the Barrier Stablizer."

King's smile fades, and only his eyes are visible in the room again. "That is... unfortunate."

"You're not overacting?", Thomas asks, raising his brow.

King's eyes shake from left to right. "Oh, no, not anymore. Besides, you sent complete fools to fulfill your selfish desires. You want to destroy the multiverse and beyond? They have to know where the artifacts are first."

Thomas smiles. "Of course. It's been a pleasure talking to you, Mr. King."

King grunts. "Likewise, Mr. Jefferson."

Thomas stands, and exits the room.

* * *

"Finished." Hamilton puts his pen down, looking at the only clock in the library. It was already 3 in the afternoon. He yawns. Must be a slow day. He stands and makes his way toward the door, and hears a soft music playing across the hallways. It sounds like a violin. He shrugs it off and follows the music, leading him to a very large door. He inwardly rolls his eyes. Obviously, this must be Jefferson's room. No, it _is_ Jefferson's room. Not forgetting his manners, he knocks on the door.

The sounds of the violin playing comes to an abrupt halt. He hears his breath hitch. Was Jefferson... _playing?_ Then he hears a grunt and the turning of a knob. Jefferson looks at him with an unamused and irritated look.

"What, Hamilton?", he asks.

Hamilton's mind goes blank. Why had he came and knocked on Jefferson's bedroom's door again? He blinks for a minute, then-kind of- remembers.

"I finished my report", Hamilton replies proudly.

Jefferson narrows his eyes. "Okay then. We'll start searching for those dumbass artifacts next week."

Hamilton's eyes widen. "N-next week?!"

"If you're asking, we have _classes to attend tomorrow_ ,", Jefferson says, crossing his arms. "Sometimes I hate those classes."

Hamilton groans. "Fine."

Jefferson snickers. "You sound like a modern whiny child now."

Hamilton ignores his remark and storms off to the library.

"Wait, you're going to sleep there?", he hears Jefferson call after him, but he didn't listen.

* * *

_"James", Thomas called as he looked at the laptop his friend gave him. It was his laptop, his best friend said. He heard the door open, and a sigh._

_"What is it, Thomas?", James asked. Thomas had been in this world for a few days, and he blinked a bit as he reminded himself of his and James' new appearances._

_"Um", Thomas looked back at the computer and to James quizically. He tries so hard not to make a fool out of himself. But with new things being discovered everyday ever since he died, he had to indirectly ask whatever praytell is on the "internet" right now. "What is 'Pride Month?'"_

_James raised a brow, and scoffed. "Really, Tom? You bothered me because you have to ask an already answered question? What is going on with you the past few days? Is it Hamilton?"_

_"Answer my question, Jemmy", Thomas replied._

_James sighed, then sat down on a lone chair. "It's just basically the month when people celebrate their rights on who they love. They basically carry signages and pride flags."_

_"'Pride flags?'", Thomas repeated, growing even more confused._

_James sighed, then stood up. "You know... I'm not really familiar with the ins and outs of Pride Month. Search the net." He left, leaving the door open._

_Thomas grunted. What a friend._

Three years later, Thomas has now written a dozen of essays about the LGBT rights and how it is so similiar to straight couples. It was almost as if he were writing those essays about America's independence. He goes back to his room and switches his laptop on. He was three paragraphs in to his latest essay. Just a few more and he's done. Then he posts it on his blog and waits for his followers to read it, support, and write comments. Another knock on his door. He sighs and opens the door, unsurprisingly revealing Hamilton.

"What were you doing in there?", Hamilton asks. "Been keeping yourself locked up in that room ever since lunch."

"I was doing something", Thomas replies. "Besides, you won't even get it."

Hamilton rolls his eyes. "I wrote a report about modern politics in three hours. Whatever confusing topic you were doing in there, I want to join."

Thomas sighs and leads him to his desk, where his laptop was sitting. Then, smirking, he changes the tab to a YouTube video. He was resesrching on _how many people think_ Alexander Hamilton was bisexual. Unsurprisingly, Hamilton tilts his head in confusion, looking at the video.

"What is that?", Hamilton asks.

"It's a video."

"About me?"

Jefferson holds a finger, smiling a bit. "Correct, but it's a video speculating whether you're bi or not."

Hamilton's brows furrow. "'Bi?'"

Jefferson wants to laugh. "Bi is short for Bisexual, which means being attracted to both boys and girls, to summarize it."

"Why're they speculating?"

"They're speculating because they think you and John Laurens are 'more than friends', because of the letters you sent to him."

Hamilton splutters. He knew he should've burned those letters years ago. It was a _sin,_ engaging in an activity defying God. But he loved Laurens, even after his death."They speculate that I am attracted to both genders just because I sent a few letters to my dear Laurens?!"

"Yes", Jefferson says. "Though, most of your letters and his didn't survive to the modern day of this world."

Hamilton can feel himself sigh of relief. "Why didn't most my letters and his survived?"

"For Laurens, I think it was his father. For you, I think it was your son, John Church Hamilton, who burned most of your letters to Laurens."

"Why, may I ask?"

Jefferson shrugs. "I guess when John Church Hamilton was writing your biography, he happened to find the letters you sent to Laurens, and just... burned them, for the sake of 'your legacy'."

Hamilton didn't know why he was relieved, that his son had burned all the letters to his Laurens. It was a sin, a crime to the church, and if he had lived in that time, he knew he was going to be executed. He knows he shouldn't be ashamed of loving Laurens, but, he would face scrutiny from the other people in America.

Jefferson must've sensed the smaller man's tension, and touches his shoulder. "But, in modern times, it's kinda... alright to have sexual relations with any gender. Yeah, there are still some sceptics, but don't mind them. Now, c'mon, I've got a lot to show you."

And Thomas Jefferson guides the overly confused Alexander Hamilton through the spectrum. He didn't realize it at first, but he finds Alexander quite... cute.

Welp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, i am actually torn to pieces about the whole Hemmings-Jefferson thing, as there are quite some contrasting evidences to support the whole theory all together. But i do believe that Jefferson is a fucking pedophile.  
> Also, please excuse me of my limited research, as i am not quite good at... researching some topics, like slavery in America, and i decided to upload this chapter without proofreading it.


	3. Everything escalates so quickly because I am a shit writer and because I'm always subtle and want to publish this okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything escelates so quickly. So yeah. Also my phone is dead so I'll escelate this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll edit this later.

The rest of the week passes by easily. Hamilton's report got complimented by Washington himself, he argues with Jefferson about politics even though he's not entirely familiar of the concept of modern politics, had lunch with his friends, talks to Eliza and Angelica about some miscellanous matters, trying to avoid looking or talking to Burr at all costs, and returning to his apartment at night. He sighs, reminding himself to make his own food. He had forgotten, that he lives alone. He remembers Eliza Shuyler's smile as he comes back to home after a week's worth, greeted by his children whose faces he just can't remember. After cooking his food, he chows down, storing the leftovers in the fridge. Hamilton takes a shower, and goes to his bed. He's tired. He wants to hear Eliza's voice before he-

Oh, right. They're not significant others in this universe. He wants to go back to the universe where he had died, not in this confusing hellhole that is another universe. And being partnered with Thomas _fucking_ Jefferson. He wishes there was a way to turn back time as it was before, wanting to go back to the duel, and actually shooting Burr. Hamilton closes his eyes, and goes to sleep. Well, tries to, anyway, as he is plagued by nightmares everyday.

"So, it's Friday", Jefferson announces as Hamilton climbs on to his car.

"Yes", Hamilton nods. "It is a Friday."

"How's your week?"

"What of it?"

"Just asking if you had a bad day or something."

Hamilton snorts. "Of course I did. I get plagued by nigthmares every night, and I try reaching out for the wife's that will never be there."

"You'll get used to it", Jefferson says.

Hamilton scoffs. "I swear, you are the most _insufferable_ being in this planet. And also because you probably sired bastard children with a _slave._ "

Jefferson grips the steering wheel tightly. " _Stop,_ Hamilton. I've been trying to forget about those rumors circulating me and Hemmings."

Hamilton leans forward. "Do you _deny_ those allegations?"

"I'm being accused of fathering bastard children with a slave", Jefferson tenses as he says the last word, "how do you think would I react? Also, that's rich, coming from _you,_ of all people."

The other scoffs. "I confessed to everyone I cheated on my wife!"

"Which is pretty stupid and unwitty of you", Jefferson shoots back. "And you also _thought_ that everyone would be happy because you were cheating on your wife and not embezzling the money of the government?!"

"Monroe was an ass, okay?", Hamilton murmurs. "He told Burr, who told you and Madison."

"Your fault for spilling your secret", Jefferson says. "I mean, you could've just... went along with it!"

"My reputation!"

"Your wife's reputation!", Jefferson shouts. "Think about it, Hamilton. If you hadn't published the pamphlet, then she and Maria were to be saved from scrutiny. Especially Maria. That woman whom you shared your bed with got scrutinized and she decided to flee to England. She came back later with another name."

Hamilton stays silent. He had not thought about the consequences and shame not only done to him, but to both Eliza and Maria. He had not heard from her after he had published the Reynolds' Pamphlet. He had assumed that she had just divorced her husband and lived on with her life.

"What, thinking about how you ruined both of their lives?", Jefferson sneers.

Hamilton glares up at him. "Shut up, Jefferson."

"Wanna know what happened to Burr after the duel?", Jefferson asks, ignoring Hamilton's remark. Hamilton, though interested, did not utter a word. "He went to self exile in Europe, then came back in the States under a false name. Married another girl, but after some years she divorced him. Her attorney was your son."

"Who?"

"Alexander Hamilton Jr. It's really ironic, if you ask me."

"Did I ask?"

"No."

The drive was spent in silence as Jefferson turns up the volume of the _radio,_ as he called it. Hamilton bites his lower lip, looking at the road, waiting for the car to stop in front of a mansion. They did, and Hamilton gets off the car to be followed by Jefferson.

"I'll make us dinner."

Hamilton grimaces, frowning. "Fine."

* * *

When Jefferson and Hamilton got home to the lights were quite dim. Then they hear a noise. It was a sound of footsteps, and a dim light was coming from one of the hallways. Jefferson and Hamilton look at each other in alarm, and follow the dim light and footsteps. Jefferson swears to himself, since the hallways were quite long and narrow, and that Hamilton was a few meters behind him. He sighs, slowing down so Hamilton can catch up with him.

"Jefferson, you're letting the asshole get away!", Hamilton huffs as they finaly got to the end of the hallways. They catch up, and sees a boy with a clock and a Firebird chain on his neck.

He looks at them with an unreadable expression, and Hamilton and Jefferson just _stand_ there.

"You're making a wrong decision", he says. 

"What do you mean?", Jefferson says, taking a step forward. The boy steps back. He looks at the window.

"Who the fuck are you?", Hamilton asks, looking at him with an annoyed look as he tries to run towards him, but the boy takes another step back, holding the chain around his neck.

"Samuel Seabury", he replies. And something clicks inside Hamilton, as if he had heard this name before. "Listen, Jefferson, Hamilton. They're leading you to a trap."

"What are you-", Jefferson starts, but then-

He jumps out the window, like what a crazed man would do.

Hamilton stares blankly at the window, as if processing at what had just happened, while Jefferson stares at the table on the corner, noticing that something was gone. He gasps, sudden realization on his face.

"The clock", Jefferson says. "Samuel Seabury got his hands on a clock."

"So what?", Hamilton asks.

"I dunno if that's an ordinary multi-verse jumper, Alexander", Hamilton narrows his eyes at the sound of his name coming out of Jefferson's mouth. "I think he's one of King's cronies. _God!_ The first artifact was right here, and I didn't notice that?!"

Hamilton sighs. "Well, you did the best you could, I guess."

Jefferson looks at him with anger in his eyes. "Alexander! King's comrade took the first artifact, which was in _our_ sight! We both failed Washington! Especially me! I can already see his disappointed face right now!"

"It's alright, Jefferson, we could think of something."

"We promised Washington to collect all artifacts before someone gets it! We lost the first one a week after Washington assigned us this task!" Jefferson hugs himself, plopping down on the wooden floor, Hamilton following him.

Hamilton doesn't know what he's doing. A few weeks ago, they were in the White House, arguing and one-upping each other until the other backs down. But now Hamilton was there, rubbing Jefferson's shoulder. The taller man sighs contently, a small smile plastered on his face.

"Thanks, Alexander", Jefferson sighs contently, leaning to Hamilton's neck, who raises a brow. "I need that."

Hamilton chuckles. "You're welcome."

* * *

They're so slow. Seabury holds the first artifact in his hands, climbing out the window and getting further away from Jefferson's mansion, to save his counterpart some trouble. He touches his Firebird, and, quickly, goes back to Firebirdverse, where he was sitting on a chair, with King staring at him intently. Then he smiles.

"You're back!", King exclaims, sitting up from his chair and embracing him tightly. Seabury smiles back as they break apart.

"They're really slow", Seabury says half-heartedly. "And that was fast."

King sighs sadly. "Can I see it?"

"The artifact, sir?"

King nods. Seabury takes out the clock from his pocket. It was not just a regular clock, as it shapeshifts to some kind of stone. It was the weakest artifact known in the multi-verse, but yet it was known to destroy a single city. It had once disrupted this New York, because Hamilton and his friends decided that it was a _toy_ to be played with, and set the city on fire. Literally. Washington was arrested, and so was Hamilton, but they managed to escape from jail. King hid the artifact in a hidden corner in their company. Until it was stolen by... what was her name again? Emma? Elsa? _Eliza._ She was a swift one. She almost got away with it if Seabury didn't hit the barrier button. She was arrested and put to custody. That was last week.

"Just like how I remember it", King says, smiling.

Seabury didn't notice that there was only one thing this King and the other Kings have in common: their smile. George King's smile, every smile, sends chills down Seabury's spine. It intimidates the most feared people, as if with just one look, he could order your head to be served in a platter. It was the obnly thing Firebirdverse King had in common with all other Kings. It's psychopathic, a fire lingers in his eyes, and his lips were sort of smiling. It was chilling, seeing the same smile curve onto King's lips. King then notices how uncomfortable Seabury is, and his smile fades to a frown. Seabury exhales, realizing he had been holding his breath. King sighs.

"Remind me not to smile again", he says. Seabury looks at him. He was frowning, as if someone had hurt him.

Seabury shakes his head. "No, it's fine, smile all you want."

"But I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I?"

"Really, it's not a big issue."

"It is if you're not comfortable with me smiling as if I'm going to behead you right now."

"I'll just keep reminding myself that you're not like the other Kings."

"But I'd still make you uncomfortable."

Seabury sighs, and holds the Firebird on his hand. He looks at King's face, which remains stoic throughout the whole exchange.

"Where to next?"

"Apocalypseverse. Be... careful."

Seabury nods. "I will." He holds the Firebird, and disappears.

King sighs. He looks at the stone in his hands, which metamorphs back to a clock.

* * *

"It seems that one of King's advocates got the first artifact", Washington says. Hamilton and Jefferson exchanges looks, before looking back at Washington. Though he doesn't show it, Hamilton can tell that he is angry. Of course he is. Hamilton had tried to deciphet what the riddles meant, but got nowhere.

"Sir, if you would have just given us the exact location of the artifact", Hamilton shoots back.

"It was in your place, Thomas Jefferson", Washington replies.

Jefferson sighs. "I know, sir. I didn't lock the windows carefully."

Washington shakes his head. "Great, the next artifact is in one of the most dangerous multi-verses."

"Where?", Hamilton asks. "We need to get it before someone from King's company tries it."

"Apocalypseverse", Washington says. Jefferson tightens his grip on the table. "Yes. Be careful."

"We will." Jefferson nods and touches the Firebird, teleporting to another universe.

Hamilton stays for a while, watching this Thomas stir from his chair. Then he wakes up, and looks at Hamilton with a smile. Hamilton looks at Washington, a silent goodbye, and touches the Firebird, jumping yet into another universe.

When he opens his eyes, he finds nothing but ruins. There were corpses lying in the ground, making Hamilton shudder, reminding him about the war. Then a corpse moves. Hamilton looks at it, frozen in place. It smelled horrible, as if a thousand bodies had just been dumped into a river. He feels a gun on his belt, and he pulls it out and targets the corpse. He can't see his face, but he can see the decayed form of its head from the fire near them. Then, remembering the informal military training he had, he clicks the trigger. A loud sound can be heard, and Hamilton opens his eyes yet again. The corpse was lying on the ground, still. And he was alone.

He decides to view his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that there were so many corpses, littering the ground, with blood splatter on the ground. It was dark. There was no light, other than the fire flickering and flaming behind him. He was in some form of junk yard, from what Jefferson had told him. It was a place to store all unneeded materials in this world. The barbed wires surrounding them were breached; someone could trespass. There were cars, heaps of scrap metal towering to over six feet, and a whole wave of-people?- surrounding the fences.

"Damn it, Alex", someone grunts. Hamilton can't believe he was thinking this, but he was glad that Jefferson-Thomas- was here.

"Thomas", Hamilton breathes. "I killed someone."

"Alex, that's not a someone", Thomas says. "That's a corpse."

"I know."

"And, for the love of God, don't shoot when we're in a quiet place."

"Why?"

Thomas grabs his arm, and points behind him. A horde of people looking like corpses were now destroyimg the barbed wire. Hamilton had never seen anything like this before.

"Run."

On instinct, they both started to run, the people-should Hamilton call them people?- chasing after them. He pants, remembering that he hasn't ran this fast ever since the war ended, but Thomas was swift. They dodge turns left and right, finally losing the horde. They inhale and exhale, as Hamilton still hears their aching moans and the way their packed feet run on the cemented ground.

"What were those?", Hamilton softly asks.

"Undead", Thomas says between breaths. He was holding an axe, something Hamilton didn't notice until now.

"I don't get it."

Thomas looks at him. "Basically, in this universe, we're on the run, but not from humans, but from people who were infected from an illness, that made them to animals. They're skins decay due to the disease, and the illness also made them demented and more willing to feast on human flesh. They're fast as well, and sensitive to loud sounds. So rarely use a gun if you're in a quiet place, lest you attract the undead."

Hamilton nods. "Alright. Anyway, how did you know about this universe?"

"It was the second universe I travelled to, after Firebirdverse. But after I saw and experience how horrifying it was here, I never ventured to this or other universes again."

"Okay... so... what are we doing here, looking for something in junk?"

"Honestly? I think we're here to find more resources for the group."

"What kind of resources?"

Thomas looks through the pile, and his eyes light up as he scoops out a rusted pot. "Like, used for cooking. If we're lucky enough, more bullets."

"How do we expect to find a bullet in buried in _junk?_ " Hamilton asks as he follows Thomas, who was now scooping things out of the junk.

"Reuse the bullets the others had used", Thomas replies. "Or some metal scraps to fix up a car, I dunno."

Hamilton stays silent, as he stares at Thomas intently. This world is collapsing. It's depressing. Now they were just depending on old scraps to survive. They walk silently, with Thomas grabbing every item they 'needed'. Now Hamilton was quite sure that he's going to get greedy. He scoffs inwardly. Why would he? It's just a pile of junk. But maybe junk is much more valuable if the world was ending. Hamilton puts his hands on the pocket of his jacket, his hair still in a considerable amount. He can't quite see anything if it weren't for the burning flame that was on top of every rubber tire. Did someone light those up so it could guide everyone? He feels the hilt of a dagger in one of his jacket pockets, and he takes it out, admiring its shine, even though it was covered in blood. He twists it, remembering how he had held a dagger in the army. The good old days. Thomas looks at him with a smile as Hamilton was flicking his dagger left and right.

"Are you done?", Thomas asks. "'Cause we need to go back to the group already."

Hamilton nods. Thomas turns on some kind of light-stick, and motions for Hamilton to follow him quietly. They pass by a few of the undead, but they didn't notice them, to their relief. They sneak out using the front gate, its wires already mangled and broken apart. They go through and were out of the junkyard. They exhale again, then Thomas' eyes light up when he sees trees in the dark, being illuminated by the moonlight. Hamilton also spots a vehicle parked behind some trees, and a fire flickering. Jefferson coughs, which alarms two people, who takes out their guns, but relxes when someone shines a flashlight out there.

"Thank God you made it out alive", Madison sighs with relief. "We saw the horde."

"I know", Thomas says. He elbows Hamilton. " _His_ fault."

"What did he do now?", Laurens asks.

"Just shot a corpse", Hamilton resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"Welp, that's Alex for you, I guess", Angelica says.

"Now, come on and sit down, we made dinner already."

The dinner, as it turns out to be, was leftover roasted deer from their last hunt. Hamilton had expected something exoric, but, of course, they're trying to live through an apocalypse here. He eats roasted meat, his stomsch not reacting to such predicament. It's as if his stomach is already used to eating food like this. He tries to remember the cold, hard winter during the war. There were no food resources, and as they shiver and eat what scraps they had left, the Redcoats were feasting and eating exotic foods. This is no different.

"I have to go back to my tent", Thomas announces as he finishes his dishes and walks to a lone tent in the distance.

Angelica sighs. "Sure, see ya."

Hamilton watches Jefferson walk to one of the small tents secluded in the woods. Before thinking, he says, "I'll go check on him".

Hamilton walks over to the tent, and narrows his eyes as he sees a dim figure on the ground, wrapping himself up with sleeping bags. Hamilton sits beside the figure, the candlelight illuminating them. Hamilton breathes as he realizes that the sight of Jefferson makes him swoon. He breathes, his lips parting. But he quickly supresses his feelings and lie beside him. The ground was cold and hard, even if it was covered in warm blankets and the leather bottom of the tent. Hamilton shivers lightly, and leans into Jefferson, his warm back making him less cold. He closes his eyes, and not a few minutes later, he is already asleep.

* * *

Thomas opens his eyes, suddenly feeling as if his whole body was burning. He was sweating all over, like a hot summer over a corn field. He tries to turn, but feels someone beside him. Confused, he turns to face the body of Hamilton, curled up in the sheets, sweating uncontrollably. Jefferson squints his eyes through the darkness, and sees that the Firebird is still hanging around his neck. He scoffs. He pulls off the sheets from Hamilton, who whines at the loss, but did not react to anything, and just went back to sleep. It was still night, and maybe he should keep watch. He blows the fire of the candle, and instantly everything went dark. He exits the tent, turning his flashlight on. Everyone had already gone to their tents, sound asleep. The only one outside was Laurens, who was lying on a piece of wood near the already dead fire. He can hear the crickets in the evening, and the soft snores of Laurens. Shouldn't he be keeping watch? He sighs, then sits besides Laurens, watching the moon and the stars above him.

Then he hears rustling. Suddenly, Thomas has his light on a small shrub conveniently placed there. He hopes it's just a rabbit, then he could make it their food for the week. It was sad, that in this world, they rely on meat to survive. When he first came to this universe, he and the others once encountered a small shack nearby, offering food. Then, Thomas realized that they had been feeding them human meat. Thomas can feel bile forming in his mouth. Then he sees a lone person, and he clicks and aims his gun at the person. The man holds his arms up in surrender, begging and pleading with his eyes for mercy. Thomas sighs, and, using what little rope was there in his pocket, binds the man. He commands him to sit on one of the logs, and wakes John Laurens, who takes a long time to respond but is up on his feet.

"What?", he asks groggily, glaring at Thomas. Thomas points his finger at the young man who he had tied up. Laurens' eyes widen and makes a beeline to each tent in the woods, waking everyone up with a whisper-shout. Everyone, even Hamilton, emerge from their tents, all sleepy, until they set their eyes on the man in restraints. They look at Thomas, demanding an explanation.

"I found this guy", Thomas says. "In a shrub."

Angelica looks at the guy, then shrugs. "He looks defenseless enough. But keep him tied." She kneels before the man. "What's your name?"

"Samuel Seabury", he replies.

Hamilton looks at the man with an unreadable face, and grabs Thomas by the shoulder, and whispers,

"One of King's cronies."

Thomas looks at Seabury. So far, so good.

"Not _his_ Seabury", Thomas whispers. "He doesn't have the necklace on him."

"So?"

"It isn't Firebirdverse Seabury."

"Fine."

"Not yet, anyway."

The others decide to take Seabury with them, even with Angelica's complaints and Hamilton's suspicous glances. Jefferson was the one driving the mini-van, after they fix up the camp-site. They need to drive quietly, as to not attract some undead sprawled about. Hamilton looks at his surroundings, wonder and horror dawning over him. The sidewalks were full of corpses and blood. There were abandoned vehicles at the side of the road, the trees ok each subdivision suddenly uprooted or cut, as if a storm had ripped them apart. The buildings have cracks on it, and he sees a small house crumble before him. Houses made of cement would take _years_ before it corrodes. How long was the apocalypse going for?

There were undead walking around, like the walking corpses they are. They pay no mind to the moving vehicle as they pass the subdivision with no one walking up to them. Then Jefferson swears under his breath. He hears someone sigh in the back.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me", Angelica breathes as she sees the horde. Hamilton sucks in a breath.

"In that case, we need to wait until they dissolve", Madison whispers. "Try not to attract their attention."

"That's... easy to do", Peggy says from the passenger seat.

"I just hope it won't take long", Eliza says.

As they wait, Hamilton's mind comes back to Seabury, who was in the backseat, Hercules and John taking watch on him. He then remembers he had seen that face before, just recently. He blinks, then he recalls what Seabury had said in Modernverse.

_"You're making a mistake."_

What did he mean by that? Is he trying to victimise himself?

* * *

King taps the wooden desk with his fingers. He hated the dark. So after Jefferson left, he had the lights turned on. He just looked menacing in the darkness, of course, enough to intimidate a new employee in his building. He sighs as he traces the wood with his fingers. Not enough to leave a scratch, because his fingernails were not that long, and he absolutely hates having long finger nails. His curls were getting in the way of his eyesight again, as always. He should really get a haircut, but he has so much to do, especially when the multi-verse is at stake again. Damn Washington. King didn't save this universe from utter destruction of its beauty, but he hopes he can save the other dimensions from destruction. He needs to keep those artifacts safe. But where would he hide them? Certainly not in this dimension. They'll figure out where it is. In other dimensions? They need to find the right place, a hidden palce where no one will ever find it. The clock on the wall dings, and instinctively, he stands and leaves his room with long strides.

Coffee wasn't really his type of drink, as it can leave him awake for hours after his curfew. But he sometimes rely on it whenever he's distressed. And whenever he really needs the damn thing. He gets a mug from the rack and waits for the coffee machine to pour the coffee to his mug. After the mug is half full, he drinks it all in one gulp. Coffee is bitter, and he never really liked it.

"Sir King", an intern approaches them. King gives them a small smile to show her that they have time.

"Yes?", King pours another cup of coffee.

"Mr. Jefferson is back", she says, a bit breathless this time.

King's smile fades, and mutters something incoherent under his breath. He turns back to the intern again.

"Let them in in two minutes", he gulps another cup of his coffee, and storms into his room.

He turns the light off, wanting to give off a cynical, dark, horrifying vibe, and tries to smile. He knows that his pearly white smile's been tainted by the bitter brown coffee, but he hopes it's not that obvious. The door opens, letting in a bit of light, until the one who opened the door closes it, letting darkness consume the cool room.

"Liar", he hears Jefferson speak. "You _sent_ someone."

King sighs, then smiles. "Well, of course I would. Why would I leave your cronies unharmed?"

"Who is it?"

King momentarily shrugs, but remembers it was dark inside. He remains smiling. "Why would I tell you?"

Jefferson scoffs. "Is it that whore?"

King can feel his fists clench and unclench. "Don't call Seabury a whore, you fag."

Jefferson snorts. "It _is_ Seabury."

"It isn't-"

"You're a terrible liar, Mr. King. I've been an employee of yours for five years, and even if the room is dark, I still know you're hiding something, or lying."

"Fuck you", King spits. "Go join Hamilton and Washington in hell."

He can _hear_ Jefferson shrug.

"That's fine, I guess."

"Get out of my office."

"Fine. See you next time, Mr. King."

King frowns. "I assure you that there won't be any next time."

But Jefferson was already out of the door. King stands and fumbles around to feel the light switch. When he finally finds it, he switches it on, squinting at the sudden brightness in the room. Someone knocks on the door.

"Come in", King groans.

"Sir", Charles Lee enters, all dressed in black. "Sir James Reynolds requests to speak to you."

"Tell them that my schedule is quite preoccupied right now." King touches his temple, feeling a headache coming to him.

"Sir, it's about Miss Maria Lewis", Charles Lee replies. "She had almost robbed the artifact we had just recovered."

King perks up. "How...?"

"Benedict Arnold wasn't on guard an hour ago", Lee replies. "She somehow managed to dodge most of the security cameras. If I did not see her, she would have gotten the artifact and take it to Washington."

"Bitch", King mutters under his breath. "Fine, whatever. Send him in, I guess."

"Yes, sir." Lee exits the room, leaving King all alonw again.

He wants Sammy back.

_The cold air made King shiver, as he walked up to a lone cabin on the edge of the woods. He grunted, waddling and wading through the snow, huddling his hands in his sleeves. He would always find an overly amazing way to get to where he wants. The cabin was made of old wood, like it would rot someday, but not today. He stood on the porch, and looked into one of the windows surrounding the house. It was lighted by a candlelight, like those old pioneering times, but it was quite ridiculous that this cabin does not have electricity. Still shivering, he gathered up the courage he needed to knock on the door. The knocks were weak, and it was just a soft rapping on the door. The cold air swept by him, making him shiver more and more. He looked at the door, waiting for it to be unlocked._

_Come on come on come on come on-_

_The soft chains of a lock echoes through Kings ears, and he looked up to see the confused look of Samuel Seabury._

_"Sir?", Samuel asked in a confused tone. "What are you doing in the middle of nowhere? And with two layers of clothes, for the matter! You can get frostbite, you know?"_

_"I kn-know", King stammered. "B-but I w-want t-to see y-you."_

_Samuel's eyebrows rose. "Um, what for?"_

_God, King was freezing. He shivered again as he felt cold air sweep by him; Samuel got the message, and he widened the door so King can come in. Samuel followed after him._

_"Why don't you sit down?", Samuel coaxed. King sat down on the sofa, not really minding how hard it is. He was near the fireplace, after all. He exhaled, feeling the warmth of the fire flickering inside him. "Would you like some hot chocolate?"_

_King nodded. "That would be nice."_

_He waited for Samuel to come back with his hot chocolate. He could feel himself growing warm, due to the intense heat of the flame. He sighed, relieved as he can feel his arms again, not those frozen stiff ones he had while was was looking for Samuel. Samuel came back with the steaming hot chocolate, and King took it drank a huge amount of the hot chocolate. Samuel sat down beside him._

_"Sir, why were you on my doorstep, freezing to death?", Samuel asked._

_"Because I wanted to see you", King replied. Samuel's eyebrows rose._

_"What for?"_

_King gulped. He can do this. He can tell his childhood friend he's in love with him in the best possible way. He breathed and opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He just sat there, staring at Samuel in his eyes. Then, when Samuel stood, he grabbes onto him and pulled him down for a kiss. The kiss was a bit sloppy and lazy, but he knew that Samuel got the message. After a few seconds, they broke apart, staring into each other's eyes._

_"I love you", King said half-heartedly. "I love you so much."_

_Samuel nodded absent-mindedly, but sighed and shook his head. King's fluttering heart went crushing down. Samuel held King's hand with a sad look._

_"I love you too", Samuel replied. King raised his eyebrows. "But not in the way you love me."_

_King looked down, feeling tears prick his eyes, but he cleched it down. He looked at Samuel with as sad smile. "It's alright. I didn't think you'd like me that way, anyway."_

_Samuel smiled. "Thank you for understanding, Si- George."_

_A few weeks after Christmas break, work resumed in King's company again. He was silent._


	4. Though this universe is disastrous nothing bad really happens, the only sad thing is that cup noodles were harmed during the writing, and peep that Thomas reaction when he discoveres he's black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically what the title says. God it's so long.
> 
> ... should I even write summaries?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, another update.  
> Some real talk, the updates would get slower because writer's block and school stuff are bitches, and the first four chapters were written ahead, and I'm now stuck with a plotless Chapter 5.

Thomas waits for the horde to dissolve. He hates looking at those... creatures. Their skin makes him sick, the way they walk makes him sick, their smell makes him sick. Who knew that a flu outbreak can turn the world to an apocalyptic universe. It was disturbing, whenever he sees corpses move or act. It was more disturbing that they feast on human flesh, like those cannibals in some shows he watched when he had nothing to do. It made this scenery even more horrifying. One single sound can make them turn their heads towards them. They're pandemonic, rapid, and fast. Thomas knows he can't outrun them. Never. They would rip you flesh off in just a minute. You'd be a snack for them.

How horrifying.

And that isn't even sarcasm. Alexander was tapping his fingers, looking through the car windows boredly, sighing quietly. Seabury, Laurens and Mulligan were quietly talking at the back. Angelica, Eliza and Peggy were all talking, with Peggy leaning over as they talk. Burr and Madison were asleep, which was quite a sight to behold. They just hope that one of the zombies don't spot them. Thomas feels around his neck, still feeling the Firebird chain attached to him. He looks over the rearview mirror to see Alex doing the same thing. They really need to find the second artifact to get out of here, and to give it to Washington. He really wished he brought that index card along.

For what seems like hours, the horde finally dissolves. No need to kick ass this hour. Thomas puts the car on go, and they drive silently to the next town ahead. Every town they find is abandoned, but this one was not. He knows a frontier when he sees one. The next town over was barely visible; it was blocked by a seemingly sturdy gate of iron, metal and wood. It was a hideous kind of gate, a gate only made right after the apocalypse happened. There were guards standing guard, their gazes upon them as they lift their guns.

"Let me", Angelica says as she opens the car door with no problem. No one objects.

Thomas smiles a bit. Maybe that was why he liked Angelica. She was sassy, poise, regal, and elegant. No wonder why men fell head over heels for her. She was a magnificent, beautiful goddess.

Thomas calmly waits for Angelica to climb back to the car, but he's just looking at the rearview mirror. At Alex, for some reason in particular. He didn't know why. He was just _staring_ at him. Alexander must've caught his stare, as he glares back at him, and went back to examining the Firebird on his neck. Angelica climbs onto the car with a shrug.

"They did say that they can give us resources and supplies", Angelica says. "But they won't let us in."

"Whatever, we have supplies, which is alright", Burr says. Hamilton gives him an annoyed look.

Angelica comes out of the car as a guard comes and gives them two bags of supplies. Angelica puts them on the trunk, with Mulligan, Laurens and Seabury, who heave at the probably heaviness of the bag.

"Drive", Angelica orders, and Thomas did as she said.

After what seems like hours, they stop in a nearby secluded forest, and decided to camp there. Thomas offers to keep watch of the captive and the camp. Alexander looks at him with an almost worried look, which was quite strange, but almost soothing at the same time, as they're both growing closer each passing day because of this assignment. Thomas sits beside Seabury as he eats noodles that James offered him an hour ago. Nighttime was approaching fast, and the others were already on their tents. Thomas sighs boredly, looking through the woods as he watches for any walking corpses walking by, trying to eat their fucking brains.

"It's a trap", Seabury mutters under his breath, which makes Thomas snap his gaze to him.

This was _not_ Apocalypseverse Seabury. This one had a Firebird chain around his neck, his eyes looking at Thomas seriously, seemingly knowing what he doesn't know. Thomas's face scrunches in a mix of disgust and confusion.

"What are you talking about?", he asks.

Seabury sighs. "You wouldn't get it, Thomas. Washington, the Firebirdverse Washington, is _using you._ "

Thomas narrows his eyes in suspicion. "What do you mean? How should I believe you?"

"I know you won't believe me", Seabury replies, eating a little of the cup noodles. "But you need to know that the artifacts Washington is asking you to bring back to the Firebirdverse are dangerous."

"What do you know?", a new voice rings out. He and Seabury look up to see Alexander stepping out of his and Thomas' tent. He crosses his arms as he sits down next to Thomas, wanting an explanation from the former preacher as well.

"The artifacts- all six of them- can destroy one universe. If you gather all six of them, it could destroy all the multi-verses existing!" Seabury throws his arms up in the air, and accidentally lets his cup noodles drop to the ground. He looks at it with loss. "Well shit. Tell this Seabury I'm sorry that I accidentally let him starve."

"Let's get back on the main topic", Alexander clears his throat. "You're saying that if we gather all the artifacts, it would destroy all universes? Even yours?"

"Yes!", Seabury replies. "Washington and his company is the reason why our universe is disintegrating slowly. We had just patched our universe only a month ago, and then... you both came to the picture."

"So it's _our_ fault?", Alexander says rather agressively.

Seabury shakes his head. "No, it's just that you both are so naïve. You always think that is Washington is by your side, he's the good guy. But not in our universe."

"How should we believe you?", Thomas cocks his head to the right.

"You don't have to believe me", the man replies. He grabs the fallen fork that had just fallen to the ground along with the noodles. Thomas' eyes follow him, still clueless. Then once Seabury raises it, they realize they're too late. Alexander was the first to stand, and tries to tackle Seabury to the ground. The other dodges it. "After all, you're all too slow." He touches his Firebird chain.

"No!", both Alexander and Thomas cry. But the Firebird chain has already disappeared. They stare at the body on the ground. The Seabury in this universe groans and rubs his head. He blinks in confusion as his pupils dilate to his surroundings. He looks up to see the glares of Thomas and Alexander.

"Why're you staring at me?", he asks.

Alexander opens his mouth, probably asking if he's playing dumb, but Thomas covers his mouth and says,

"You dropped your noodles and had a seizure."

Seabury sits, and stares at what once was his food on the ground. Thomas and Alexander sit as well, looking at each other while stealing glances over their shoulders to see if Seabury is trying to get away. Not that they cared, anyway.

"So, why is he all confused?", Alexander asks. "Didn't he like, I don't know, steal an artifact that might be the probable end to all universes just a minute ago?"

"That's not the Seabury that was talking to us a minute ago", Thomas explains. "A Firebird just doesn't make a new body. It takes another. Like what Firebirdverse Alexander did to you. After the person occupying the body leaves, the conciousness of the other person 'wakes up'."

Alexander scratches his head, clearly still confused, but nods in slight understanding. Thomas inwardly chuckles as he remembers that Alexander was speaking like a modern person a minute ago.

"I can't believe we lost two artifacts in just one day", Thomas sighs, putting his hands on his face in defeat. "That must be a new world record."

Alexander looks at him with a frown, and pats him on the shoulder. "Hey, it's alright."

Thomas wants to snort. Shouldn't Alexander be the one freaking out right now? Well, he's going to fail and disappoint his boss _again,_ but he acts like nothing is happening. He was never a good comforter, but Thomas knows he's trying, no matter how much he sounds like a mother comforting her child when said child dropped their cup noodles on the ground. He leans into the touch, slowly relaxing, and, slightly clasping Alexander's hand with his. He feels Alex jump a bit from the touch, but relaxes into it as well.

"Do you want to go back to Firebirdverse and tell Washington Seabury's got the other one?", Alexander asks.

Thomas shakes his head. "Maybe later. Can we get a little change of scenery first? I don't want to have a date with you in a universe filled with zombies, darling."

Alexander's brows furrow. "What's a date? Also don't call me darling, it sounds flirtatious and flirting between two men is a sin."

Thomas' smile falters, but remains smiling. "Some people don't believe in God."

"What are we? Is it not a sin to not be a Christian? Or to not believe in God?"

"Didn't you neglect the church in your middle ages until Philip's death?"

Thomas can see Alexander wince at the mention of Philip's name, but calms down a bit. "Well, yes, but I was busy."

"Dumb excuse", Thomas drawls. "C'mon, let's go back to Modernverse and away from this dreary place."

He and Alexander touch the Firebird, and then sees the portal illusion right in front of them. They both jump, leaving the bodies they had occupied. They bump to each other, remembering that they were still in Thomas' mansion, when Seabury had stolen the first artifact. They look at each other in the eyes, a few seconds of eye contact. Alexander breaks away first, leaving Thomas a bit lost to himself until he snaps out of it. He stands up, and motions toward his bedroom. Alexander was reluctant, but follows him to his room.

"This looks like a desirable setting", Alexander says. "For intercourse."

Thomas rolls his eyes. "Alex, shush."

"Why are you now reffering to me by my first name?"

Thomas shrugs. "I don't know. I was pretty upset that Seabury got the first artifact that I forgot we were supposed to be enemies who hate each other like a lot but then I realize that we can restart our lives in this world but not really fix our mistakes, more like we can make sure we don't do the same shit again."

Alexander blinks. "I'm amazed. That is the longest sentence I have ever heard come out of Mr. Thomas 'Slave-Owner' Jefferson. Has being in the modern world reduce your use of punctuation marks and misuse of proper grammar?"

Thomas rolls his eyes. "I learn a lot as I grow, Alex."

"You've never been an orphan in the streets of the Carribean, Jefferson."

Thomas holds his hands up in mock surrender. "I know, I know."

"Anyway, have you ever had... admirers?"

Thomas smiles. "Yeah. Like a lot. Are you talking about how many girls I slept with? Oh, I'll count the boys too."

"You disgust me."

"Well, they can't resist me!" Thomas flexes his arm, showing his muscles off.

Alexander coughs, and replies, "Yes, yes, they're quite... _pleasing_ to look at, but since you're in a body of a... black person, how did you feel the first time you saw yourself on the mirror?"

Thomas snorts. "Like, I panicked. 'Cause I thought that God punished me for owning slaves and turned me into one."

"That'd be a fitting punishment."

"I know, Alex."

_As Thomas wandered throughout the hallways, it became quite clear to him that there were no slaves loitering around the entirety of this place. Then again, he must be in the middle of nowhere. He walked and saw a door. Curiously, he turned his knob and stepped inside. It must be a bathroom. But it didn't look like the bathrooms in Monticello. It had some sort of decorations on the strangely smooth floor, a curtain on the corner of the bathroom, a mirror, and... is that a toilet? He looked at it with marvelous wonder. How many years has it been after his grand demise? He hadn't seen his reflection since he got here. Maybe he can look at himself once he sees his reflection in the mirror. He turns to see himself, and his eyes widen in horror._

_Thomas was black. He had dark skin and hair. His hair was as frizzy as it was messy. He feels dirty._

_"God, what did I do to deserve this?", Thomas said, looking up. "What sort of punishment is this? Is it all those slaves I had harbored in Monticello? The hypocrisy I had expressed in my writing while writing the Declaration of Independence?"_

_"Thomas, are you alright?", a voice asked. The door opened to reveal another black man, this time a bit shorter than the body Thomas was in now. Was he a slave? He was wearing strange clothes._

_"I am not fine!", Thomas exclaimed, earning an unamused look from the other._

_"Why's that?", the other asked, yawning. Thomas splutters. How disrespectful!_

_"I'm black! Like you!" Thomas raised his arms._

_The man raised a brow. "Are you alright, Tommy?"_

_Thomas' eyes widened. The only one that ever calls him that, other than his sweet Martha, was James Madison. He cannot believe that James Madison would show up in front of Thomas looking like that._

_"Oh my God... Jemmy, are we cursed by God to repent for our sins down here on Earth?"_

_James frowned. "Are you doing drugs right now?"_

_Drugs? As in the one from the Boston Tea Party? Thomas shook his head._

_James sighed. "Then don't act like one."_

_Without another word, his best friend closed the door, leaving Thomas as confused as ever._

After the story, Alexander was lying on his bed, laughing and crying at the same time, while Thomas sits on the edge of the bed, smiling with flushed cheeks, a bit embarassed that he had told the story of how he reacted when he looked at his reflection in this world for the first time. But it was nice finally telling someone about his story. After all, he can't do that to the friends he'd made on this world. They never even have the same experience as him.

"So, how many years did it take you to get uses to your new body?", Alexander asks.

"About six months", Thomas blurts out. He can feel his cheeks flush even redder.

Alexander snorts. "Of course you'd have the longest time of coping. After all, you are in a body of a slave."

"Not really."

"Yeah, shouldn't have said that."

They both sit in quiet silence, looking at each other with their own eyes. And Thomas gasps. Alexander has beautiful eyes. No wonder why so many people had complimented them, and had a first impression that he was what he looks like. And when Alex had openes his mouth in their first cabinet battle, everything went crushing down to dust. Thomas doesn't know why, but he finds something... endearing in his eyes.

"You wanna stay here for dinner?", Thomas finally says.

Alexander nods. "I guess. I just hope it isn't mac and cheese, Jefferson."

He didn't know why, but Alexander still calling him by his surname hurts a bit. He shrugs off that feeling as he hops off the bed. Thomas goes downstairs to start dinner. He can feel footsteps behind him, but it stops after Thomas walks in front of the library. Alexander's desire for reading was quite... endearing, for particular reasons. He did miss arguing with him about politics, but maybe they can put that aside for now. They're not even involved in the slightest bit of politics, and the Student Government in their school is the closest thing to modern politics, probably. Thomas decides he's _not_ going to cook mac and cheese this day (thank god) he decided to cook French cuisine today. Not to wow Alexander, of course.

_After a month or so, Thomas got used to the fact that he is in a body that's not his, learned to do household chores, and remembered that he was not a father. Like anymore. As he was washing the dishes, the chain around his neck started to glow. He looked at it, confused, and touched it. He was quite surprised when an orange portal appeared out of nowhere, and prayed to God that this wasn't the gateway to Hell. After muttering a silent string of prayers, curiously, he walked right through, and seemed to close his eyes throughout the journey. He opened his eyes again, to see that he's in a different body (same race, though) and in a different world._

_This world was much more futuristic, with floating hovercraft in the air, and tall buildings, even taller than the ones he had lived in. This city was much more melancholic. There were clouds covering the skies, the people were wearing much more clothes with monochrome colors, and, as he looked down, his fear of heights kicked in. The ground, if that was even the ground, was a lot further than it ever was before. Thomas breathed, trying to relax._

_"Modernverse Jefferson?", a voice asked. Thomas turns around to see his former enemy, Hamilton, standing in front of him._

_"T-that's me", Thomas replied. "Hamilton? What are you doing here?"_

_"Not your Hamilton", Hamilton clarified. "Follow me."_

_Thomas followed Hamilton, even though he can't help but wince a bit from the cold tone of his voice. Then they enter an isolated room that was lifted by cables. As the 'room' started to move upwards, Thomas gripped the handle of the chair he's sitting in. He looked at Hamilton, who was looking at him with longing in his eyes. Thomas looked at him in confusion, and the other looked away. As they reached the location they were here for, Hamilton opened the door to the little room and ushered Thomas out. He looked at his new surroundings. The building was quite grand and tall, as it blocks the sun in the horizon. It had dim lights and the building's walls and floors were all smooth and black._

_"Where are you taking me?", Thomas asked as he continued to follow Hamilton._

_"I'm about to change your life", Hamilton replied._

_"You already changed it", Thomas replied._

_Hamilton stopped in front of a door and knocked on it three times. He grabbed Thomas' arm and pushed him inside the room, where he was greeted by Washington. This Washington, to be exact. How come their appearances are still the same?_

_"Eighteenth Century Jefferson?", Washington asked._

_Jefferson nodded. "Yes." It was more of an answer, than a question of odd uncertainty, as if you're not sure if they're speaking to you._

_"Well, we need to talk about multi-verses", Washington says._

_Thomas, though very confused, got a lot more comfortable in his seat._

_"Do tell me", he replied._

Alexander scoops up a forkful of the food and gnaws it down. Thomas smiles as he hears Alexander's satisfed noises in the back of his throat.

"My lord", Alexander says, mouth full. Thomas rolls his eyes and throws a paper napkin at Alexander, earning an "oof" from him.

"Don't eat with your mouth full, dumbass", Thomas answers as he eats a bite of the food he made.

"It's quite delicious", Alexander inquires.

"That's not an excuse to forget proper dining etiquette."

"Are we in the eighteenth century?"

"No?"

"Then I don't have to follow proper dining etiquette." He takes a bite of the French toast. "Because it's a _modern_ thing."

Being the adult Thomas was, he sticks his tongue out to Alexander, who also sticks his tongue out eloquently.

"Wanna sleep here tonight?", Thomas asks. Alexander stops eating and looks at him with narrowed eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"What if I don't?"

"Then I'll get you home."

"It's nighttime."

"Then stay."

"Oh no you sound like Maria."

Thomas lightly laughs at the statement, and continues to eat the dinner he made.

* * *

Hamilton was not used to the fact he's staying over someone else's home. It was awkward and surreal, and rarely practiced back in those days, but here he is, going to the bathroom and taking his clothes off. It wasn't even _his_ bathroom, anyway. After a couple minutes of showering, he dries himself with a towel he had brought to the bathroom, and wraps it around his waist. He knocks on Thoma- Jefferson's door, and the man opens it. He was shirtless, which did not make Hamilton flush, but something inside him tingles with being uncomfortable in this situation. Thomas does a once-over of his body, face red- though Hamilton is conpletely oblivious to why his face went red- and coughs a bit and lets the shorter man enter his room.

"I would've given you a room to sleep in, but every room is full of useless junk so..." Thomas trails off. "My room's the only room with a bed to sleep in."

"I'm not sleeping in the same bed as you." Hamilton crosses his arms, trying to look assertive.

"Yeah. That's why I took out a matress. For you." Jefferson piles pillows and a blanket to the matress below. "Don't worry. It's soft."

"Huh. Thank you, I guess."

Hamilton lies down on the matress, pressing his body down on the matress as he covers himself with a blanket. And also because he can hear Jefferson's breathing above him. He lets himself get lulled to sleep, his breathing evening.

* * *

Samuel opens the door to his shared apartment with some others, stripping off his coat and leaves it on the floor.

"Just because you got back from a mission doesn't mean you get to leave your clothes anywhere in this apartment", Charles Lee calls from his bedroom, and Samuel sighs as he picks his clothes up and trudges to the laundry room.

He greets Benedict Arnold, who was turning the washing machine on.

"How is it?", Benedict asks. "You know, the artifact collecting."

"I collected two artifacts", Samuel replies. "In like, one day."

"Kinda a new world record, if you ask me", John Andre says as he strides into the room with a basketful of clothes he used. "Wash this for me, Benedict."

"Do your own laundry, John", Benedict grimaces. "Like, please do that."

"No way, too lazy", John looks at his fingernails, which he painted a black shade a week ago ("It looks absurd on your fingernails", Margarita Shippen, Benedict's fiancè, says. "It doesn't fit your pretty face." John Andre smirks. "Everything fits with my face if I say so, dearest Peggy.")

Samuel glares at him. "Asshole, you promised to help me with that thing I did yesterday!"

John snorts. "Uh, no? I didn't want to do the thingy with you? I wanna see some sexy times with you and King."

Samuel's mood starts to go rigid. He only deems George Friedrich King as a friend, and he was quite pleased that King had respected his decision in staying single, until he found the right one. But he can't help but feel less comfortable whenever he's in a room alone with George that is not in his office.

"We're not fucking", Samuel replies.

John Andre rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever. Also, Benedict, tell your girlfriend that she's hot. And that that message came from me. Please?"

"No." Arnold and Andre used to be rivals, as Andre had been Margarita's fuckbuddy until Arnold came to the view. Andre had already developed profound feelings for Margarita, but of course the woman deserved to choose someone she chose to love, so she picked Arnold, of course. Andre was bitter with the decision, but respected it.

Samuel rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Benedict, wash this for me?"

Benedicts stares at the bundle of clothing, and Samuel knows that the man is not assertive enough to say 'no' (he has courage to answer no in front of Andre, for some unknown reason, but Samuel never commented on it). The man sighs and takes the basket and puts it on the washing machine.

"Have fun being late to your date with Margarita", John sings as he waltzes out of the room.

"I'm not having a date with Margarita tonight", Benedict says. "I have a meeting with John."

Samuel rolls his eyes. "Clarify _which_ John. 'Cause I know a lot of Johns. And Georges too, if you remember. John Laurens, John Adams, John Andre, John Jay, John Church-"

"John Church", Benedict cuts in.

Samuel raises a brow. "You're having a meeting with Angelica Shuyler's fiancè?"

"I know, completely weird", Benedict scratches his head. "But Sir. King wants that, so I have to do it. Especially after I screwed up."

"You fucked something up? How?"

"I wanted to pee so I did so I left the first artifact you gathered alone, so this woman named Maria Lewis almost tried to steal it, so..."

Samuel sighs and shakes his head. "Be more responsible, Arnold."

"I know, I know."

"Guys stop having a moment in the laundry room and come to the kitchen, it's urgent", Charles shouts from the kitchen.

Samuel and Benedict walk to the kitchen, where they see John Andre holding up his phone and smirking as Charles opens cupboard to cupboard, looking for something he doesn't even know where it is.

"What are you looking for?", Samuel asks.

"The cup noodles!", Charles says. "They're gone! Cup noodles are like, the only thing keeping me from killing myself!"

John sighs. "Stop exaggerating, you wuss."

Charles glares at him, but says nothing. Samuel just starts to back away into the corner, and goes back to his room, exhausted and wanting to have a good night sleep before going back to his work tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Sammy and the BRITISH SQUAD
> 
> Enjoy the fluff I gave you


	5. I remember writing this I just might regret this work for the rest of my days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they resume with what they're doing and also Thaurens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late upload, like what I said, busy withc school because I got a 74 in some subjects and goddamn it it's overwhelming me. But yeah

The sunlight from the slit in the curtains reaches Alexander's eyes as he groggily and begrudgingly opens them. He rubs his eyes, yawning, and feels as if he was alone in the room. He climbs off the matress, then sees Jefferson's sleeping body in the covers of his bed. Oh. So he's not actually alone.

"Jefferson", Alexander says, trying to wake the sleeping body up. Uncouth, but will you ever say that in front of Alexander Hamilton?

"Asshole", Thomas groans into his bed. "I was having a not-that-good dream but I'm not going to object because I totally deserve that dream."

Alexander sits on top of Thomas' bed, adjacent to him. "You should thank me. That must've been a nightmare. Tell me about it?"

Jefferson opens his mouth to speak, but nothing incoherent comes out, as Hamilton swears that he can see Jefferson muffling himself with a pillow on his mouth.

"Okay, you _don't_ wanna talk about it?", Alexander says.

"No way", Jefferson replies from underneath the pillows. Hamilton can already hear muffled sobs. He inwardly scoffs, as he recalls that Jefferson had just answered back to him with a childlike answer and manner.

"Fine, I don't really care", Alexander lies down on the bed, facing away from the man beside him.

"You're body is not helping me relax", Jefferson says in a hushed tone. A very hushed tone, for some reason.

"The mattress was as hard as a rock", Alexander says. "You lied to me."

"I lie everyday", Jefferson shoots back, feeling like he has the strength to argue back.

"Oh? Of what?"

Jefferson doesn't speak, and goes back to talking into his pillow.

"It just... sucks, Thomas." Alexander lets himself call Jefferson by name. It was strange, letting the syllables slip by his mouth, as if a foreign sentence.

"Hey, you called me by name." Jeffer- _Thomas_ drawls. His Southern drawl was quite evident in some of his speeches back in the early days- when they were still political enemies, when Thomas used to own slaves, when Hamilton was married and has many children and more. It was quite ironic, that the old Thomas was quite reserved and more... _shy_ at general public speaking, or maybe he gets nervous talking to different masses of people so he pretends to be sick.

"Are you loud?", Alexander asks.

"Like, in bed?", Thomas finally sits up with a knowing smirk.

Alexander turns red, but shakes his head. "Were you always this inappropriate in front of someone else? Were not you the person who spoke softly in cabinet meetings and pretend to be sick?"

Thomas laughs, and Alexander breathes. His laugh was beautiful, a pure Virginian laugh, like how the serious George Washington had laughed whenever they crack funny jokes. He finds himself smiling a bit as Thomas continues to laugh.

"Yeah, I was pretty petty back then", Thomas says between laughs.

Alexander gasps in exaggeration. "Thomas Jefferson? Dissing himself?"

"Don't get used to it, Alex." Thomas' tone was a bit more serious now. "I only do this whenever I feel like I hate myself. Which is like, a lot."

Alexander nods, agreeing. "You should."

"Not helping, Alexander."

"I know."

Thomas gets up from his bed, and looks at Alexander with a smile that sends the smaller man's heart racing for some strange reason.

"Wanna go back in making sure the world hasn't blown up yet?", Thomas asks.

"No", Alex replies. "I know it's just been a day, but that universe with the undead made me a bit... overwhelmed, for some reason."

"Yeah, it's horrifying, I know. You wanna have a drink with your friends? Do you miss them?"

"Of course! They're my friends! I don't really want to spend time with you just because we were assigned by a strange partnership-"

"Hey! Wanna let me ride you to your place?"

Alexander couldn't say no to this. Well, he _can,_ but he can't bring himself to. So, he nods, and lets Thomas start the car. He was already getting used to the presence of the taller man, and, for obvious reasons, he didn't want to admit it. He sits on the front, near Thomas. Thomas turns the key so the car's engine roared to life.

"You have a phone, right?", Thomas asks suddenly.

"You mean the rectangle thing?", Alexander asks, fishing out the said object.

"Yeah. I'll give you my number."

"Number?"

Thomas sighs, and takes the phone from Alexander's hand with a few protest from the smaller man. "I'll punch in my contact number, so you can, you know, contact me."

Alexander stares at Thomas as he types in what he must assume is his number. "Is it like letters?"

"Sorta, those are the text messages, but the numbers help you contact me, either with texting and calling."

Alexander raises a brow, but nods as he and Thomas slip out of the house's driveway and into the highways.

Thomas stops the car near Alexander's apartment, and the man proceeds to say goodbye to the other and walk to up the stairs to his apartment. His apartment was less clean and only has room for him and his nessecities, and a cramped bedroom, kitchen, living room and bathroom. And damn it- no hot tub. Sometimes he envies Thomas' life like it was his own, but he mentally slaps himself in the face. He shouldn't be jealous of his former-rival-turned-friend. He really shouldn't. Getting bored, he strips down to his boxers and lounges on the couch, holding his phone with wonders on his eyes.

He had rarely used his phone, as he was quite oblivious with its functions and thinks that such device is going to trap his soul. Alexander swipes on the lock screen and is greeted with the photo. He smiles to himself, and finds an app called 'Notes'. Raising a brow, he clicks on it and it pops up forms of rectangular 'ads' before it got to the real page. It was not empty, as there were entries of countless journals and minimal essays of unfinished or discontinued essays about the politics of the world today. He decides to read them, to see if some can pique his ever growing interest in the modern world. It did, of course, and soon, Alexander was on the couch for God knows how long and his thumbs are now sore from writing too much.

He groans, then he hears a surprised yelp from himself when his phone starts to ring. Wanting to know who would interrupt him, especially now that he has sore tumbs, he answers the call with a few struggles and tries.

"Oh, Alex, got the hang of the phone?", Thomas' voice rings out throughout the entire room, and, inside Alexander, he feels relief sweep through him. Alexander unconciously smiles.

"Yes, maybe so", he replies. "Why in God's name did your call surprise me? Especially when my thumbs are now quite sore?"

"Oh my god, have you been typing on your phone? Shit, did you find the Notes app?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's a first. What did you write about?"

"Just found old Alexander's unfinished essays and read them for fun."

"Damn. Anyway, John Laurens, your cool friend, asked me why you were in my house the first place?"

"Did you just call Laurens cool?" Alex couldn't control the amusement in his voice.

"Yes. He's pleasant to be around, last year we hit it off-"

"Are you saying you _courted_ my best friend?", Alexander asks in disbelief. How they manage to do such a feat is quite interesting, as historical Jefferson and Laurens do not like each other for contrasting beliefs.

"...Yes."

"How did you manage-"

"It was a one-night-stand", Thomas blurts out from the phone. "Like, we had sex one night and entered a relationship thereafter."

Alexander raises a brow both in disgust for such a crude behavior and increasing amusement. He snorts.

"Why did you 'break up'?", Alexander asks.

"Oh, it just ended amicably, since our relationship wasn't really going anywhere. We stayed friends, and Laurens would come visit me in my house. Anyway, he just asked what you were doing in my place?"

"Uh, tell him we had a sleepover... something."

"...Sure."

"Okay, goodbye, I have to go back to typing some more essays."

"I have to roam around the damn town to interview people about politics. You know, the project?"

Alexander sighs, hanging up and touching the Firebird chain, still waiting for his next adventure with Thomas.

* * *

♤♡◇♧

_Thomas woke up as the sun reached his eyes. He groaned, changing to a sitting position. His partner, the man he had picked up from the bar on the way home, was lying on his nude back, his front lying on the bed. Both are so hangover from the drinks they shared. It was also hot in the room, even if Thomas turned the fan on yesterday._

_"Fuck, Jefferson, I never took you to be the writhing, moaning, bottom type", Laurens says as he turns over and swings his arms around Thomas' waist._

_"John", Thomas said with a warning, but he leaned into Laurens' touch._

_"Damn it, you were so hot last night", Laurens continued, his other hand trickling down Thomas' spine. He shivered at the touch as it trails down further back._

_"Laurens", Thomas warned. Laurens stopped such misdeeds at once, and rested his head on Thomas' shoulder._

_"So, are we in a relationship now?", Laurens asked._

_Thomas shrugged. "I don't know. You choose."_

_"We can try a relationship."_

_"Maybe. Fine. If this doesn't work out we're done."_

_Thomas can feel Laurens' hands wander to his chest. Thomas breathed, quite pleased with such caresses. He had forgot how to feel loved, and how intercourse works. He closed his eyes, and remembered old Laurens' coldness towards him, and his hatred for slaves. John Lauren's hate for hypocrisy. If he had been alive in the seventeen eighties, when the Jefferson-Hemmings controversy has started, he would have challenged Jefferson to a duel. Thomas shook his head, trying to disregard of memories past, when he was still in the universe where he had been born._

_Thomas closed his eyes in wander, searching for Laurens' warmth, which was always given to him under the sheets of the bed. Thomas had shrugged off the consequences of adultery, and shrugged off his dear Martha, not wanting to sicken himself due to the loss and forlorn of his first love, who had cherished him deeply._

_"You okay?" Laurens' voice snapped Thomas out of his thoughts. He nodded, a yes._

_"Can we get out of bed? It's pretty hot."_

_Instead of a yes, Laurens growled and kissed Thomas with such force. Once Thomas was lying on the bed, with Laurens on top of him, Laurens smirked._

_"No, I want a round two", Laurens answered. They kissed passionately and deeply, something that became a normal doing for them whenever they were out in public._

♤♡◇♧

"You totally like him", John says as he chugs down one of Thomas' most expensive of wines. Thomas thinks why he would serve such a fine beverage to a man who can only drink like it's a shot.

Thomas scoffs. "That's probably how you feel about him. You're conflicting your feelongs with mine."

"I didn't break up with someone just because another asshole's hot. I mean, you're totally hot, I can say that with certainty."

"I don't like him", Thomas interjects. "But yeah, I think he's hot-"

"That means you like him."

"There's a fine line between infatuation and love, Laurens."

Laurens scrunches his nose. "We have had sex a couple of times and you still call me 'Laurens'. You call him by his first name ever since that _day._ "

"Uh... overly exaggeration?"

"No, you totally like him. As in, in you-want-to-have-a-relationship-with-him-and-hookup-after-you-think-you-love-each-other."

Thomas laughs. "Ha! You hooked up with me and Lafayette before you got a proper relationship with the other!"

"Hey! We started as friends!"

"Then a hookup relationship, then an emotional and physical relationship."

Laurens grunts. "It's still a relationship. We started as enemies, you know."

Thomas drinks the remaining liquid of his wine. "Well, we did try to work it out. Now every Sunday I give you free lodging on my mansion."

"Don't call the house a mansion. Seems... stuck-up of you. Oh wait, you are actually a stuck-up. Stuck-up and stubborn."

"Not as stubborn as Alexander, though." Thomas lets that slip from his mouth, and Laurens smirks.

"See? You totally like him!"

Thomas groans. "I like him as a friend, but I think he's hot."

"Tell him that you think he's hot."

"That is the most humiliating thing to do in all centuries."

"Suck your pride, asshole."

"Suck my pride? You're not the one who asked the French hot guy at school to date you!"

"Suck a dick, Thomas."

"I'll gladly suck your dick everyday", Thomas rephrases what Laurens had said when the Hamilton he knew for a decade came to this world.

Laurens looks at him with a thin line, not amused. "Uh, I have a boyfriend."

"Weak comeback."

Laurens rolls his eyes and just drinks his glass of wine.

♤♡◇♧

They meet up in Alexander's apartment, and they both stare at each other in silence.

"Hey", Thomas says to break the silence.

"Hey to you too", Alexander replies.

"So", Thomas sits on a stool. "You ready to go back?"

"Eh, yeah", Alexander shrugs. "Samuel Savory is probably already stealing the four remaining artifacts to destroy all multi-verses as we speak."

"Well, okay then", Thomas touches the Firebird on his chest, then disappears through orange dust. It was a strange sensation, seeing Thomas go first. Alexander touches the Firebird carefully, closing his eyes, thinking about the next universe next door. Then he sees orange hue enter his eyelids.

His eyes are still closed, but he can hear cheering of a crowd and neighing of horses. Had he come back to his original time? The sun was shining bright in the sky, and it was very _hot._ He feels like he's wearing something heavy, and when he opens his eyes, he sees nothing but pitch black, except for a little light. Alexander, curiously, tries to lift his arm, and after struggling, he lifts it and puts it on what his head should've been. Yet he only felt metal trace metal. Was he wearing some kind of armor? Is he wearing a helmet? What for, for only knights of the Middle Ages had only worn such things.

"Sir Hamilton, you are next to joust with Sir Jefferson; many people recognize him as the greatest man living", a lady's voice enters his thoughts.

Alexander scoffs. There is only one thing to why a lady would ask him to joust with a 'knight'.

He was in King Arthur's time; the time when Camelot had existed, when chivalry is quite common, when knights still roam the realms. Sorcery was also prominent at this time of Age. Yet for some reason, it was discredited, and people only sought of it as a legend, nothing more.

He bets that he and Jefferson had been transported to a children's book.

"No, my fair lady, for I am now exhausted with jousting other knights." Alexander was grateful he remembers reading Arthur's tales when he was still a young child. The noblewoman huffs, and turns away.

Alexander sighs as he feels his way through everyone and finally hears the voices of chattering fade away softly. He might be in a forest, for Camelot was surrounded by it. It was a place where noble knights enter and fled for their lives, a place where Sir Lacelot du Lac, the greatest knight living, or so he'd been told, was driven to madness by the queen's rebuke, and where many wild beasts have lived in search of prey.

It's quite an adventure for a knight, perhaps.

Alexander takes off his helmet and armor, stripping down to a white shirt and undergarments of what a knight usually wore. He sits down on the grass, sighing and smiling as he feels warm air all around him. He missed this type of surrounding. He can still hear the crowd's cheering, but it was quite a bit faded into his ear.

"Sir Alexander, thou looketh like a fool." Alexander opens his eyes and glares at Thomas, who still had his armor on, and has the Firebird chain on his neck. Alexander feels its wait on the crook of his neck, so he need not bother checking.

"Nice Arthurian speech", Alexander says sarcastically, sneering at him.

"Shush, I have read the Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table."

"Yes, I can see that. Who's your favorite knight?"

"Sir Gawain."

"Common knight", Alexander remarks. "I liked Sir Lancelot before he became a lover of Guinevere. Now, I'm just torn between either Sir Dynadan and Sir Mordred."

"Sir Mordred? Strange choice, but I see why you'd choose Sir Dynadan."

Alexander opens his mouth, but before he speaks, a loud scoff echoes throghout the whole meadow. They turn to see a knight so big. He had his helmet on, and he was on a horse.

"Foolish knights! Unarming yourself near the jousting grounds!"

"Well", Thomas sighs and arms himself. "Shall we continue to the jousting grounds, then?"

"Yes! After all, Sir Jefferson, I have come to joust with you, to overthrow you from your place as a great knight! But first-"

The knight clad in armor trots up to Thomas, and, grabs the Firebird chain and yanks it from the others' neck. Thomas looks at it, wide, as the other knight examines it.

"Why do you wear such a trinket on your armor? I shall give this to the King, see if he can take care of it. Now come, Sir Jefferson! The crowd is watching! The crowd is waiting for us!" Then the knight jumps on his horse and rides away with Thomas' Firebird chain.

"Oh God", Thomas says, looking at Alexander. "He took it."

"Then we'll get it back", Alexander says with a determined look on his face.

Thomas shakes his head, his afro bouncing. "No, Alexander. If a host doesn't have the Firebird chain around his neck for even a few memories, their counterparts will take full control of the body until someone presses the Firebird to their chest: a reminder. So if you finally get the Firebird, then press it up my chest. Hurry, my memories are already fading."

"Is it permanent?", Alexander asks curiously.

"Not really, now, wear your armor again and let's go back to that Tournament. Shit, my memories are fading quickly."

Alexander quickly adons himself in armor, and as he looks at Thomas, he sees that Thomas has a blank expression on his face, looking at his surroundings in confusion. Then Thomas' gaze settle to Alexander, and his emotion changes that from confusion and shock to agressive and hostile.

"Fiend", Thomas says. Alexander reminds himself that this isn't the Thomas he knows. "Are you trying to deceive me, Sir Hamilton? For you are a treacherous knight that does not deserve such a high place in King George Washington's knights."

Alexander scoffs, going to try and play along. "What? You came here into this forest to personally insult and offend me? And I thought you are on of the kindest knights in the King's court.

Jefferson-because he's not _the_ Thomas he knows- just frowns and puts his helmet back on, and walks to his horse that Alexander had never seen before. Jefferson mounts the animal, and, sending one last glare to Alexander, he rides off to the direction of the tournament. Alexander waits a little longer before arming himself and go back to the tournament.

And maybe he should start looking for that Firebird, even though he is quite curious about his whole dynamic with Jefferson in this universe.

♤♡◇♧

_Sir Jefferson sat near Sir Hamilton as the King started to speak about how the knights are worthy of a dignified feast for their chivalrous deeds. It was the thing they most desired the most, King Washington said. Everyone feasted and drank wine, and Sir Jefferson complied with both, but did not get intoxicated with wine and stuffed with meat from hunts. But all he ever looked at during the feast was Sir Hamilton._

_The man is irresistible. He's already partnered with Elizabeth Shuyler, one of the most beautiful women in all of history, second only to that of Angelica Shuyler, her sister. But Sir Jefferson championed King Washington's wife, a woman named Martha. They are having what is called a courtly love, a secret affair that will be found out sooner or later. Back to Sir Hamilton, he was quite an attractive young lad: one of the youngest knights in the round table._

_Sir Jefferson needs to act fast._

_After the feast has ended, every knight goes to search the realms for the thirst of adventure, and for fame. But Sir Jefferson stalked Sir Hamilton, until the man stopped dead in his tracks. Sir Jefferson's breath hitched, thinking that he had been found out._

_"Sir Jefferson, what in pray tell are you doing?" Yes, he did catch him._

_Sir Jefferson appears from the bushes, a serious but sheepish look on his face. Sir Hamilton scowls._

_"I have to say, Sir Hamilton", Sir Jefferson steps forward, enveloping the other with his arms. Sir Hamilton sighs, surprisingly, with content._

_"Everyone finds me irresistable", Sir Hamilton says with a warning tone. "But I'd never love you back."_

_"I am aware of the fact, yes", Sir Jefferson replies, with a drawl. "But I want to satisfy you."_

_Sir Hamilton scoffs. "Such can only be done by an expert."_

_"I am one."_

_And they spend a passionate night together, and they spent the night in a hermitage not far from the forest. They were entangled with each other, even though it was a sin to sleep with the same gender. They won't be able to participate in the Quest for the Holy Grail, but Sir Jefferson shrugged it off as he is with someone he loved._

_But the next morning, Sir Jefferson had seen Sir Laurens enter Sir Hamilton's bed chambers. Envy and curiosity overcame Sir Jefferson, and, with all his strength, barged into the door, to see both naked on the bed, indulging in the activities Sir Hamilton and Jefferson had did._

_Sir Jefferson was beyong rage; he forgot the warning Sir Hamilton had told him. That he will forever be a cheater._

_"Miscreant!", Sir Jefferson shouts at Sir Hamilton. "You unfaithful, treacherous vile knight! Have you no shame?"_

_Sir Hamilton sits up, clearly irritated with Sir Jefferson._

_"I have warned you, did I not?", Sir Hamilton says. "I will forever be an infidel; and, speaking of infidels, are you not the Queen's paramour? So, is not it hypocritic that you call and insult me in my bed due to infidelity, when we are not even significant partners?"_

_Sir Jefferson, still mad, jumped out Sir Hamilton's window, earning a shriek from the two of them. He fell into a thorn bush, where he got scratches and wounds, but he paid them no mind as he wandered his way through the thorns, already losing his wits._

♤♡◇♧

"Quite a tale to be told", Angelica Shuyler tells the children of the story of Sir Jefferson indulging in a dirty activity and Sir Hamilton's infidelity.

Alexander had just tridged into the library when he heard such story being told. He almost laughed to himself, but remembers Angelica was telling a story about him, how he had came to make Sir Jefferson mad for a year before finally coming to.

Which makes him think.

Is he always a cheater in every single universe he will cross?

As Alexander trudge into the Tournament grounds, he sees Jefferson- not his Thomas- knocking a young knight from over his horse. He walks to where the other knights sit, chattering away as they watched 'Sir Jefferson' overthrow another knight.

"Such a great knight", a man who has a familiar accent says, and Alexander turns to see Lafayette, who was looking at Jefferson in wonder. Alexander sighs and watches Jefferson joust with more knights, but sometimes fight them on foot.

"Do you believe so, Sir Hamilton?", Lafayette asks him, and, Alexander nods.

It was quite a hot day, and Alexander hated such temperature, especially when he is clad on heavy metal armor. Alexander grumbles to himself as he feels sweat forming on his forehead and on his arms; it was quite gross, but he tries to ignore it. No wonder knights weren't a thing anymore. After some more knights jousting each other and getting thrown off their horses, someone calls his name. He looks up, quite lazily as the heat of the sun exaperates him to no end.

"Yes...?" He then looks up to see the General, or, King (which is quite disturbing, now that he'll refer to the General as a King). "Your Majesty?"

"Upon requests from the crowd, you shall joust with Sir Thomas Jefferson", Washington says with a polite smile.

Alexander smiles, but he catches sight of Jefferson, who was still mounted on his horse, and suffered only minor wounds even though he had just jousted a few dozen of knights. He had a scowl on his face as he sees Alexander staring back at him, but puts his helmet back on. His heart beats a bit, quite nervous for the lack of better word.

He's going to joust with Sir Jefferson.

Sir Jefferson had just jousted with a few dozen men and looked unhindered.

Sir Jefferson hates Sir Hamilton, but not Alexander.

Alexander and Sir Jefferson are going to joust.

And King Washington has the Firebird chain hanging across his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just read Le Morte'd Arthur while my phone was taken away and I'm quite disgusted with it
> 
> Sir Dynadan is my favorite

**Author's Note:**

> Oh holy fuck


End file.
